#Maybe Penny just sent the text to the wrong person | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lyn-js · 3 months ago

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Dancing under the Moonlight | Chapter 6. The Wrongful Act pt.1

Bradley Bradshaw x OC Reader (Nickname Honey)

Summary: After the Uranium Mission, Bradley Bradshaw decides he wants to settle down. Maybe even start a family at some point in time. But he felt so tired (and old) to be in the dating scene. That's until he sees a beautiful new bartender at The Hard Deck. Not only that; turns out she's Penny's niece, Beatrice. They both hit it off amazing, but for some reason, Beatrice isn't letting her walls down yet. But Bradley is going to get to the bottom of what Bea's big secret is.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, drinking, mentions of past abuse, fluff, eventually smut 18+, age gap (24 & 35)

(Bradley’s POV)

He woke up on the wrong side today. Of course, he would on all days. He could never forget this day, even if he tried with all of his being.

He can never forget the day when the only person he cared about, who he truly loved. Was gone.

No matter how hard he thinks about his mom, he can never let go of these emotions. He spends the lonely Christmas and other holidays by himself. The only things he did were put up the Christmas tree and put up the decorations. That was his mom's favorite part, so it felt nice to do it when he could.

Then later, drinking his life away and shutting everyone out. He wishes he could talk and open up about what's happening, but it seems like they wouldn’t understand. Plus he didn’t want to put all of his baggage on them. Talking about his dead mother, while his friends have healthy, stable relationships with their loved ones and family. He thinks it would make everything complicated.

Until Beatrice.

She felt like a breath of fresh air. Something new in his life that he never wanted to let go of.

He felt like a new person when she was around. Leaving behind all of the pain and guilt he has felt over the years. Maybe even making a life of their own. He’s thought about that a couple of times while lying away in his bed, and can't stop thinking about her.

But today was different. It seemed Beatrice slipped out of his mind when he woke up. Automatically think of his mother and all of the lost years he’s had.

Already starting that day off with a headache, grabbing a big thermos full of coffee, walking out the door to his Bronco, and off to work.

When he was walking into the building, he saw Beatire’s name lit up on the screen with her profile picture in the background.

He took that picture the same night when they stopped at the ice cream shop, she was looking up at the fairy lights that were hung up outside the shop. He couldn’t stop looking at her, the fluttering lights casting onto her honey-brown irises making her look like a real-life angel. He grabs his phone out of his pocket and tries to take a photo without her looking, but he gets caught, and just gives her a blank look. She just starts laughing at him and tries to hide her face behind the cone, but gets dessert all over her nose and they both fall into a fit lighter and tears. Happy of course and lucky he snuck a photo of the special moment.

Later that night he kept looking at the photo of you, not being able to put his phone down. Looking at your wavy brown hair, your infectious smile, and bright eyes. When he looked at her, he just saw perfection.

His Honey.

He didn’t want her to worry about him, but he also didn’t want to dump all of his problems on her. So he sent her a quick text.

Hey Honey, I can't talk, busy day ahead. I’ll try and talk when I’m off of work.

He didn’t have a busy day today. They had half a day, the weather was due for a thunderstorm later, so they couldn’t go in the air. The squad was testing out some new flight simulations, doing loads of paperwork, and heading home.

He didn’t want to lie to Bea, but that was the only way he could distract himself at work so he could not focus on today at all.

When he walked into the locker room fully zipping up his fightsuit he heard his phone go off again.

No problem B, maybe later you can stop by the bar, and catch up a little bit. Have a good day. xx Honey 😘

He let out a sigh, not wanting to say anything else. So he shut off his phone and worked on the long-awaited paperwork.

—----

Even though he wasn’t in the air today, he still felt like shit. Normally he was a pro on the new flying simulation equipment, but he was getting himself or other people killed.

He was sitting at his desk filling out one more pack of paperwork. He can see Phoenix walking over, and slamming her hands on the table.

“What the hell was that back there.” he didn’t answer her. He just kept his head down and worked.

“Even though it was just a sim, I don't want you doing that shit in the air, whatever it is that you got going on, figure it out, and come back when your head is on straight.” She was right, he could put people in danger in the air, whether it was on a screen, or if it was the real thing.

“Phoenix is right Bradley, if you're going to keep this act up for the rest of the day, pack up and go home. I’m not going to have my team not be on their A-game.”

He just looked up at Mav dumbfounded, just not believing what he was saying right now. “What the fuck Mav, It was just a little slip-up. It’s not going to happen again-” but he got cut off real quick by him.

“I don't care Rooster, I’m not gonna let you fly like this. Pack up and go home.” Without a second thought, Bradley shoots up out of his chair and walks back to the locker room.

Driving into the Hard Deck parking lot, letting his tight grip on the wheel go, almost seeing white peeking through his knuckles.

He was pissed.

So he walked in trying not to make a scene, took a seat at the bar tops, and tried to cool down. Hopefully, this will work for him.

As the day turned into evening, and evening into night, more and more patrons and even some co-workers started filling the bar, getting drinks, and having a good time.

He’s on his fourth or fifth drink but doesn’t seem to care. He didn’t bother when the squad came in and offered a round of pool. He just sat there to drown his sorrows.

When he was about to ask Jimmy for another round, he felt someone's hand come down onto his shoulder a couple of times. He turns his head and sees the one person he’s dreading right now. “Not in the mood Hangman,” he says with a little bit of an agitated tone.

“What’s your Problem Rooster, who pissed in your cheerios this morning?” He knew exactly what was wrong; he just wanted to get under his skin for a minute.

“You know what you need, Rooster, you need lovely old Beatrice with you. She’d probably know how to cheer you up,” he says with the biggest smirk on his face. “I don't want to talk about her right now.” Not wanting to discuss his love life right now in front of people musically Jake.

“What’s your problem? I thought you two were good. She seems like the right fit for you?” To be honest right now. Jake was completely right about Bea. She and him fit perfectly together, a little too much. That was amazing for Bradley.

But of course, there were thoughts and the insecurity he didn’t like that popped into his head. She was too young, they were into too different parts of their lives, and he was a little bit concerned about her job.

He never liked those thoughts, but he wasn’t sure what to think. What if she saw another guy, younger, stronger, more attractive than him? Would she just up and leave?

There was that tiny insecurity creeping up. He was trying to push it down, but he couldn’t resist.

“She’s too young for me, it would never work. Plus, she’s probably not ready for a commitment. I can't deal with that type of stuff.

The next words that came out of his mouth, he knew he would regret forever. “Probably fucking around with other guys right now. Fuckin slut.”

Everyone around him fell into complete silence. He just now realized he fucked up. Big time.

He turns around to see some of the squad looking at him like he has three heads attached to his body, the other just looks disappointed. Maybe even the worst of it was when he saw Chantal with Phoenix. He knows that Nat is trying her hardest to hold her back so she doesn’t beat the living shit out of him.

He didn’t even need an answer to ask if she was here. He knew for a fact that she was working tonight, and there was a big chance that Bea heard everything he was saying to his friends. She must be so hurt right now, he just wants to wrap her up and hold her and tell her he didn’t mean anything that he said. He was drunk and he was just being a dumbass.

So he tries exactly that. But when he tries to hop off the bar stool he almost stumbles over and falls on his ass trying to get outside to Bea. But he’s stopped by most of the squad. Musically Chantal.

She makes her way up to him, balls his shirt up in her fist, and pushes him back on the stool. “Beatrice was so nervous to go out with you. I didn’t know why at first…but she to;ld me she didn’t want to end up in another bad relationship. She didn’t want another Zeke in her life, turns out you are just like him.” The only thing that Bradley could do was shake his head ‘no’. He never wanted to be like that asshole Bea was dating before. He wanted to make you feel special in every single way he possibly could. He can’t believe he would say those horrible things, those awful, hurting things. He didn’t know if you would ever talk to him again.

Bradley is finally letting reality set into his system.

He just lost the one chance of forever.

With you.

Your (POV)

You finally thought you were happy, you found someone who cared about you. Who loved you?

You try to keep yourself calm, trying not to let your emotions go all over the place-

“I thought you would be here Honey?” Your blood runs cold, your whole body stiffens when you hear that low, groggy voice you thought you would never hear again.

“Zeke?” You try not to let the sadness slip through your voice. “What…what are you doing here? How did you find me?” wanting to ask so many more quest

“I have my way, baby. Let's worry about this another time, I’ve come to say I’m sorry.” You didn’t want to listen to him. You don’t want to keep running back like you always did. Letting him get away with the most horrible things, what he said, what he did. You still can’t believe that you stayed with him for all this time. Whatever he has to say to you now, hopefully, you're going to be done with him for good.

“I was so stupid back then. My heart wasn’t in the right place, and you did nothing wrong. I’m better now, I’m in AA and I’ve been clean for a couple of weeks.” Being taken aback by what he’s said, you’ve always encouraged Zeke to get help for his drinking. You never liked seeing the ugly, drunk side of him. Hearing the screaming and shouting, listening to all of the gruesome things he said to and about you. You still have nightmares of when he was in one of his drinking fists, it always ended with you being woken up, drenched in cold sweat, and wishing the dreams would stop. But they always kept coming back. But hearing this new side of him.

“H-how do I know if you're lying to me?” you say in a skeptical voice. Not truly believing the words coming out of his mouth, all of a sudden he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out some sort of coin. He places it out for you to see, but you take a step back making sure to yourself he’s not pulling anything.

“It’s my sobriety chip… I’ve been clean for a month,” He walks over to you and places it in your palm. You look at him, then back at the chip. Repeating a couple of times trying to make sense of this. “I’ve been trying… trying for you B. Please come back home. It hasn't been the same without you, Plus I’ll treat you better than that dick in the bar.”

Maybe he has changed? That's the only thing that is running through your brain.

“I’m not sure Zeke… Not right now at least. I’m really happy that you're clean, and getting better.” you try to say to him with a little bit of ease. “You know I knew you would say that.” The next thing you know he’s planted a mean right hook on your cheek, making you fall to the ground and feel the stinging pain forming on your face. You try to crawl backward towards the bar steps and make your way back in, but you feel a pair of hands grip the base of your neck and drag you to your feet. “Whether you like it or not, baby, you're coming home with me. You’ll never see your precious aunt or friends or even poor little Rooster.”

Once again you feel a hard thud being brought down on your head, You try and feel what hit you, but when your hand comes back down, you can only see bright red on your hand. Everything starts to fade and become blurry.

You try to fight away the darkness creeping into your vision. But it overtakes you. The only thing you can see is darkness.

What is going on?

(Penny’s POV)

I hurry my way into the house with Pete behind me, the only thing racing through my mind is finding out where Beatrice is.

Once I got into the house I saw Chantal pacing back and forth in the kitchen, to the point it looked like she was about to put a big hole in the floor. I walk over to her and embrace her with a hug.

A couple of hours ago after our departure on a romantic boat ride with Pete, He walked over to me and handed me my phone to find hundreds of messages from Chantal saying she can’t find Beatrice everywhere. Also, saying she was missing and couldn’t find her. As soon as I saw the word missing, it was linked to Bea. The blood in my system ran cold and I automatically went into mama bear mode. Even though she is my niece, I have always treated her like she is one of my own.

I told Peter what was going on, and he didn’t have to think twice and turned the boat around so we could find Bea.

Now we’re here.

Once I release Chantal from my hold she walks over to the Island, and picks up a crumpled piece of paper, and hands it over to me.

I see the handwriting is some type of chicken scratch, but they were trying to make it into Beatrice’s handwriting, but presumably failed that task.

Dear Aunt Penny,

I’m sorry that I wasted your time with everything. I wasn’t in the right headspace to call you that night. Zeke came by and he apologized for what happened. We made up and I’m going to stay with him for a little bit. I promise I’ll be okay. I love you so much.

-Your Honeybee

I just wanted to fall to the floor and let go of everything. I promised my sister that I would always take care of Bea, and I would want to keep that promise until the day I die.

“W-why would she write this? Did something happen? I thought she could come to me when something was wrong.” I spill my thoughts out in the open. But I hear Chantal speak up.

“We were making our way into the bar, but she heard Bradley say some terrible things about her. And before you rip him a new one. I already did.

The coldness in my body suddenly rushes to pure, hot, raging anger. How could somebody do this to another human being? My niece to be exact. She is such a sweet and kind person. When I turn around I can see Pete on his phone calling Bradley. I make my way over to him and grab the phone out of his hand. I can hear his smug voice through the phone. But I cut him off.

“What the hell have you done?”

Reblogs are always welcome. Unless you're under 18. I will block you. and comment if you want to be added to the taglist. If I forgot anybody message me and let me know. You will be added.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13@shanimallina87@angelbabyyy99@callsign-magnolia@nerdgirljen @nervousnerdwitch

#bradley rooster bradshaw #tgm fic #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #tgm oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun fanfiction

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horseshoegirl · 2 years ago

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Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 10 - Let's Dance

📝 Okay, Peeps! This is pure fluff with some spice! I also love this song, so please check it out!

Speaking of songs, I made the official playlist for this fic! Not sure if you guys listen, but it's linked in the master list if you guys want to check it out!

18+ minors DNI. Ageless and blank blogs are blocked without warning.

❗+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, original child, sexual themes (I mean Smut, so get outta here if you ain't +18), mentions of a stalker, grieving, and shitty family dynamics.

#7k Words

Part 9 | Masterlist | Part 11

You never expected Jake to want to take you to the annual state fair for your first date. It seemed out of character for someone like him. Then you realized it didn't seem that farfetched. If he grew up on a ranch in Texas, he probably went to these all the time.

You had been at the grocery store when his text came through. Jake had sent you the flyer, along with a message.

You. Me. Saturday + Dinner ;)

And before you could reply, there was another text.

Penny was going to take Sadie sailing away.

While some part of you was slightly surprised he followed through on his ask, you had to glance down both ends of the baking aisle to make sure you were alone before squealing and jogging a little on the spot.

It had been a few days since the hallway. Jake and you spent at least another half hour tied up in each other's arms, and you practically had to peel yourself away from him. You were so giddy the rest of the morning, and then some, after you had forced yourself to go back to bed, trying to stay as still as possible with Nat still asleep next to you.

Sitting across from him at breakfast, he acted as if nothing had happened between the two of you, that he was just friendly Jake, leading you to believe maybe it had all been a fever dream caused by the discomfort of the storm.

But when he went to place his glass in the sink while you were washing the dishes, he slyly touched your hip, letting his fingers slide across the fabric of your jeans just below your waistline, whispering, "Thank you, Darlin'" roughly into your ear before he returned to the table.

Yup, definitely not a dream.

So while you were working with Penny the day before the date, she didn’t waste the opportunity to grill you about it. Hard.

“You have a date.”

You blushed. “Penny..”

“Where is he taking you?” she pressed.

“He didn’t tell you, seeing as you're now his accomplice?” you countered, trying to finish mixing a cocktail someone ordered.

“Tell who what?”

Your head shot up to see Phoenix leaning up against the bar. "When did you get here? Why are you here?"

“I’m helping Penny with something. Now spill…”

Penny beat you to it, leaning over the bar and resting on her elbows when she told Nat, “Liz has a date. With Hangman.”

Nat smirked. “Oh, so him pressing you up against the wall in your hallway didn’t do it?”

“Elizabeth Beck!” Penny gasped. You squealed, dropping to the ground behind the bar, Phoenix laughing at your antics. “I can’t believe you saw that.”

“I had to go to the bathroom,” Nat said like it was obvious. “It’s not every day you see your best friend getting rammed up against a wall like that.”

“Oh, good lord.”

"Get back up here," Penny tapped your leg with herself softly, you standing up with a blush overcoming your face. She wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you into her side.

"Tell us," she tried again. "We aren't judging. We just want details."

You relented, quickly sputtering, "He's taking me to the fair."

They oo'd in response, making you shy away from Penny and reach for the drink you made, walking over to the person who ordered it sitting on the other side of the bar.

Nat followed you, quickly asking, "What will you wear? Something sexy?"

You glowered at her once you placed the drink down. "It's the fair, Nat."

Penny wasn't that far behind, bumping you on the hip. "There's nothing wrong with showing off."

You stuttered, trying to come up with some response that wasn't your usual reply of, 'I'm not like that,’ until someone shouted for Penny, distracting the three of you. She pouted, realizing the conversation would continue without her before leaving you and Phoenix alone.

“I’m just teasing you,” Nat offered. “I said I would back you up with this, and I will.”

You paused, gripping the edge of the bar. “Does the rest of the team know?” you asked hesitantly.

Nat shook her head. “I think Coyote knows something. He’s the closest with Jake.”

It struck you momentarily that this was the first time you heard Nat refer to Jake by his first name. It was always Hangman or Bagman. His last name was even rarer. It might have been a small change, but it showed you Nat was serious about this. It brought a small smile to your face.

“As for the others, Payback and Fanboy are off in their own world half the time to notice, and Bob is too shy to let on. I can’t say anything about Bradley, though.”

You frowned. This wasn’t the first time you thought about Bradley and what he might say or do if he found out. He was so heated on New Year's. If he reacted that badly, what would be his reaction when he found out his claims weren’t exactly untrue?

"Can we not tell Bradley? At least for now?”

Nat shot you a look. “Really?”

“I’m serious, Nat. He was so angry on New Year's Eve. It was scary.”

"Maybe he has a crush on you."

You wretched, the action making you hack. “Ew, no way. He's like a brother to me.”

"Then you should really tell him."

You shook your head. "It's just one date, Nat. I have no idea if anything will come of it."

She slapped your forearm, exclaiming, "We both know that's not true. You so have it for Hangman. It's not funny."

"It's one date. Besides," you shrugged before saying, "I think it has to do with Sadie."

“Those two have a professional rivalry,” She said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s extending over to whoever is the better uncle.”

“God, I hope not,” you shuttered. It was one thing to argue about who the better pilot was. It was another to include Sadie into the mix.

At the mention of Sadie, you looked up at the time, realizing you were five minutes over your shift and late to pick her up. “Shit, I'm late. I gotta go pick Sadie up from Soccer practice.”

Natasha leaned back from the bar, ready to return to what she was helping Penny with but not before saying, “Just think about it, Liz. It should come from you rather than anyone else.”

Saying a quick goodbye to Penny, you clocked out and gathered your bag. But as soon as you walked out the doors, that damn white car was the first thing you saw.

This car always seemed to be there - it hadn’t done anything but park in the Hard Deck parking lot and was driving you insane. You strangely found yourself looking for it when you drove around town. Or in the parking lot of Sadie’s school. You thought you saw it once parked outside of your house but played it off as being paranoid.

You usually weren’t this suspicious or obsessive about these things, but it was enough to make you feel concerned. Turning on your heel, you marched back into the Hard Deck, Penny frowning from behind the bar when she saw you.

“Have you seen that car before, Penny? The white one with the spoiler on the back?”

You could tell she was thinking about it, pinching her eyebrows together before finally recalling, “Oh, it was a nice young man looking for a surf spot. He came in one day asking, and I told him about the overnight rule.”

You heard nothing beyond young man. “You remember the night I closed? You told Jake I was closing by myself?”

She nodded. “Yeah, that was a little while ago.”

“That car was there then. It would have been too early for surfers.”

But she only shook her head. “With everything that's happened with CPS and that letter, I’m sure you're just being paranoid, Liz,” she said before walking over to the other side of the bar with a drink in her hand.

If you could only believe it was just paranoia.

Jake was going to pick you up at 11, and it being 10:30, you were still stressing over what to wear. Your bedroom looked like the morning of the hike. Clothes flung in every corner, hangers hanging off random hooks and knobs.

Everything you held up against yourself to look at in the mirror either felt too plain or too out there for a state fair. You needed help, and you needed it badly. You pulled out your phone, scrolling down your contacts, stopping when your fingers hovered over Ridely's number.

But then, instantly, you remember you couldn’t call her. You slid down the footboard of your bed, back hurting with the effort as your phone dangled from your fingertips, your head hung low between your legs.

She would always ask you when you called if you had met anyone, if you had gone on any dates, teasing you and telling you repeatedly that you needed someone in your life. But now, you couldn’t even tell her you were going on a date. You couldn’t call her afterwards and talk about it like sisters could.

She’d never get to meet Jake. To give him a shovel talk like you did with her dates. The two would never sit across from each other at the dinner table, bickering with each other like you were sure they would, their personalities clashing hard. She wouldn't have approved of him initially, much like you hadn't. But she would have warmed up to him by knowing how good he was with Sadie.

But then you spiralled, admonishing yourself for thinking that far ahead. It was only a first date. By the end of today, you might come to find you had a horrible time, and any chance at any type of relationship with Jake would be ruined.

It was only a first date.

And you couldn't tell her.

The sobs worked their way up your throat before you knew you were crying, begging to be let out and heard. Tears streamed down your face, the drops pooling on your bedroom floor.

But then Sadie’s voice carried from your front door, shouting out that Aunt Penny and Nat were here. You scrambled to get up, reaching for the closest piece of clothing to put away.

Penny appeared in your doorway as you wiped at your face, attempting to fold up a sweater. She carefully walked up behind you, placing her hand on your shoulder. But her touch was too much, and you turned, pulling her into a hug, the tears you tried so hard to stop refusing to listen to you.

"I'm so sorry, Penny," you wept into her shoulder. It didn't help when you opened your eyes over her shoulder, the shoebox was the first thing you saw sitting up on the top shelf.

Penny hushed you, her voice wavering as she stroked your back soothingly, "Nope, you're not apologizing for that. Let it out, Liz."

"I just..." you gasped as another sob wracked your chest. But Penny pulled back, taking your face between her hands, her thumbs wiping away your running mascara.

"You'd don't need to tell me. We all know you miss her."

Penny let you cry into her chest for a few minutes, her own tears starting to mix with yours, before pressing a kiss to your forehead and reaching for a button-up blouse lying on your bed.

"Now, come on," she sniffed, holding it up for you. "We will find you the best first date outfit amongst this mess."

She did. Just in time for Nat to fix your makeup and for Sadie to snap a few photos of you with her Polaroid. And right at 11, you opened the door to a bouquet blocking Jake’s face.

“You got me flowers?” you said, greeting him with a smile when he lowered them to reveal his face. Jake carefully placed them into your outstretched hand, grinning when you immediately brought them to your face to smell them.

“I’m sorry they're not tulips.”

You shook your head, smiling into the bouquet. “It doesn’t matter what they are. Thank you, Jake.”

And then, in something that made you smile, he pulled out a single flower wrapped in a bow from his back pocket. “I figured I should keep with tradition.”

You stepped forward, hand pressing to Jake's shoulder as you pressed your lips to his. Letting Jake deepen the kiss, he wrapped his arms around your waist, mindful of the flowers in the crook of your arm. But you pulled back when you felt his hands sliding down your back towards your ass.

“We have eyes and ears on us from the living room,” you warned him, jerking your head towards your hallway. Not that Penny or Nat would let Sadie see anything untoward from their hiding spot behind the wall. But you could do without the teasing from them afterwards.

Jake grinned, leaning over to call out, "Bug!"

Turning to face your hallway, you spied Sadie stumbling out from behind the wall like she had been pushed. She huffed at someone, probably at Nat, then comically straightened her shirt before making her way to the door.

"Hi, Uncle Jake," she greeted him, though her voice lacked the usual cheeriness it always had. Jake let you go to kneel in front of her, holding out the flower. "Miss Sadie, will you accept this flower so I can spend the day with your aunt?"

Sadie's face remained stoic as she reached out to take the flower from his hand, bringing it up to her face as she twirled it once. Jake stood up, slightly worried about her non-reaction. But you knew exactly what she was doing, and Jake was falling for it hook, line and sinker.

In Sadie fashion, she finally grinned at him, holding her free hand up to her forehead in a salute, cheekily saying, "Have her home by no later than 11!"

You laughed when Jake saluted her back. Sadie, content with the reaction, ran back inside to find Penny so they could put her flower in some water.

"Was I just given a curfew by a ten-year-old?"

"Yup."

---

The benefit of getting to the fairgrounds a little bit earlier, you didn’t have to wait in line for rides. And boy, were you surprised when Jake dragged you around to a bunch of them. Teacups, bumper cars, going down those super long slides in a potato sack more than once, you plastered up against his chest. If the two of you could go on it, Jake ensured you did.

A part of you was slightly pleased he wanted to. It helped with the slight nervousness in your stomach, both from this morning and from being with Jake in this context. You had to remind yourself time and time again that Jake was the same as he had always been. But it became easier with each ride, the two of you laughing way harder than you should for a Saturday morning.

It took your stomach rumbling loudly enough for Jake to kiss your cheek and drag you to the food stands. After asking what you wanted, he told you to find a seat, saying there was no possible way you were paying for yourself. You had huffed at him, but he only pecked your forehead before gently turning you by your shoulders and sending you on your way.

You found a picnic bench away from the stands under a tree. It was the perfect spot, away from other seats, for you and Jake to talk. He found you easily enough, handing you your corn on the cob on a paper plate before placing his hot dog down on the table and climbing over the bench to sit next to you.

But it occurred to you, as you started to nibble on the cob, you didn’t really know that much about him. Sure, you knew he was a fighter pilot, from Texas, from a big family with troubling dynamics. He grew up on a ranch. He was a few years older than you. He had a reputation.

But you didn’t know the other important stuff.

“What’s your favourite colour?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“What’s your favourite colour?” you said again, laughing.

He shot you a look. “We’re really doing this?”

“You're the one that wanted to take me out on a date,” you shrugged, taking another bite of your cob. “So spill. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Orange.” He admitted after a second. "You?"

“Blue-Green. But not turquoise,” you were quick to correct. “The blue-green you see out in the sea.”

Jake nodded thoughtfully but didn’t say anything.

“This is the part where you ask me a different question,” you roughly whispered, leaning over to tease him.

Jake chuckled, making a show of needing to think about his question before finally asking, “Most embarrassing moment?”

You giggled at the memory. “When Sadie was born. I was rushing to leave the hospital cause I was late for my shift. The nurse told me I could use the stairwells, but I triggered the emergency exit fire alarm on the door instead.”

Jake snickered with a mouthful of his hot dog.

“Hey, they tell you you can use those doors. I was misinformed.”

Jake shook his head fondly. "Okay, your turn."

“Did you always want to be in the Navy? Flying planes?” you asked, sobering the conversation. Jake looked at you for a minute before staring down at his plate. “Remember how I said my future was more or less planned out?”

You nodded, taking another bite of your corn on the cob, listening as he continued. “My grandfather served in the Navy. He saw how much I didn’t want to follow in my brother’s footsteps and started talking to me about his deployments.”

Jake grabbed a napkin off the table, wiping away a speck of mustard from the corner of his mouth before explaining, "My dad had been pressuring me throughout college to come home and take over the ranch since I put my foot down about football. I spent a summer with my grandfather up at a Navy base in Fort Worth, learning, watching, and taking everything in. I got to see a little bit of everything, but the fighter squadron... there was something freeing in seeing them up there."

You could tell he was lost in his head, reminiscing about a time when he was trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, away from people's impressions and opinions. If you ever met Jake's dad, you'd make sure he knew what you thought about the treatment of his youngest son.

"Then he asked if I wanted to join when I graduated," He shrugged. “One of the best decisions I’ve ever made. He passed five years ago.”

Listening to Jake recount his story made your heart ache, knowing he would have been expected to live out a future somebody else had carved for him had somebody not shown him a different way. Though it brought comfort to know Jake had somebody in his corner, two people looking out for him if you considered his sister. You reached out, letting your hand graze up and down his forearm in comfort.

“He was looking out for you,” you offered kindly.

“He would have liked you,” he wondered aloud. “And he would have spoiled Sadie to no end.”

You let the silence stretch on, knowing Jake would need a few seconds to regain his composure. But then he suddenly said aloud, “You said Ridley sent your college admissions for you. What did you study?”

You swallowed hard at the mention of Ridley, a queasiness settling in your stomach as this morning was still too fresh on your mind.

“English,” you managed to say. “The bookcase in my family room wasn’t a dead giveaway?”

“Anyone can be a bookworm,” he remarked, the look on his face indicating he expected you to continue.

“I wrote a lot in high school,” you shrugged. “Fiction, poetry… short stories. Ridley found them one day after we moved, submitting a couple to a few English and creative writing programs.”

Jake took another bite of his food before asking, “You’re a writer?”

You nodded. “Trying to be.”

“Anything I can read?” He asked playfully, knocking your shoulder. You smirked, pushing back into him as you said, “Maybe one day.”

You didn’t know if asking something like this on a date you thought was going well was proper. But you were curious anyway when you casually said, “Your first kiss?”

But Jake wasn’t ashamed to answer, not that you expected him to be. The man oozed confidence. “Highschool. After my first touchdown. One of the cheerleaders at the side bench. The worst experience of my life.”

“I knew you were a jock,” you snorted.

“What about you?”

“I was a geek - in the library most weekends.”

“No, your first kiss.”

“Oh… um..” you hesitated before finally admitting, “You.”

You may as well have sucker-punched him in the gut. Jake turned to face you, shock then confusion covering his face, as if you didn’t just admit to him the kiss at three AM in your hallway was the first time you’d ever been kissed.

His reaction made you look down into your lap, blending the edge of your paper plate back and forth, before giving into the urge to fill the silence. “I’ve gone on dates. But they never went past the first one. Either things didn’t work out, or I got ghosted. It made me wonder what I was doing wrong.”

Jake cleared his throat. “So you’ve never…?”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to know what he was asking. You shook your head, your blush spreading down your neck. “Does that surprise you?”

“Someone like you, how didn’t anyone..?”

“I’ve never trusted someone enough to do it with,” you shrugged. You felt embarrassed, not that you should have been. But it was a well know fact Jake got around. That he was, for lack of a better word, experienced.

It wasn’t like the opportunity didn’t present itself while you were at college. But the parties and causal thing just wasn’t for you. And all the guys seemed like walking red flags. Your insecurities also didn’t help. But they weren’t as bad back then as they are now. And then Sadie came along, and you put any thought of dating aside.

“Does that bother you?” you asked meekly, scared of his answer.

Jake turned, his knee knocking yours as he dropped his plate to the bench, wiping his hand on his shorts before reaching out to stroke the outside of your thigh. His voice was firm when he answered, “Absolutely not. I’m just surprised.”

You didn’t know you had been holding your breath when you found yourself letting out a sigh of relief.

“Though I can’t lie, I’m thinking about all the ways I can corrupt your innocent little soul.”

You smirked, shaking your head. "You're a menace."

He returns your grin, unfazed by your response. “Now, what else did you want to ask me? Since we are doing the question thing.”

You thought about it for a second before asking, “What were you going to tell me on New Year’s Eve?”

But rather than freeze up like he did the other times you asked, Jake smiled fondly at you, hand still stroking the outside of your leg. “What? Me giving you the best first kiss of your life in your hallway at three AM wasn’t enough? Clearly, I didn’t do my job right. ”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Jake leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before leaning back. “I was going to ask if you wanted to start the year off by going on a date with me.”

You gulped. “You’ve been thinking about this awhile then?”

“Since Sadie invited me on the hike.”

The uneasiness in your stomach disappeared with the mention of Sadie, and you squeezed his wrist in silent thanks before reaching for your food. But then Jake said something that made you pause.

“I think she’s trying to play matchmaker with her subtle hints and pictures…” He froze, realizing what he just said out loud. You dropped the cob from your mouth, looking over at him in shock.

“She didn’t!” You exclaimed, catching on to what he didn’t say. “Oh, that insect! I knew she sent you something suspicious with those photos!”

“Hey, I promised her I wouldn’t say anything,” he said, sounding guilty for breaking his promise. Then your mind flashed back to the video chat you had with Jake. “Wait, Coyote… at the end of our call..”

Jake closed his eyes, tilting his head back to the sky as you exclaimed, “Was I the photo in your cockpit?!”

___

Jake told you he wanted to take this slow.

You had agreed to the both of you taking it slow.

Hell, it was your first date.

But damn, he was not making it easy.

After lunch, Jake wanted to take you to the arcade on the other side of the fairgrounds before the two of you had dinner. Buying a bag full of coins, he placed them in the palm of your hand, telling you to pick whatever you wanted. But you wouldn't have that, telling him the two of you would take turns deciding what to play.

But no matter what game the two of you decided on, you were sure he was purposely trying to mess you up by making himself as distractingly attractive as possible.

It all started with the air hockey table. A few occasional glances here or there as you knocked the puck back and forth along the table. Then it was the flirty trash talk, a playful diss being said when one of you would score against the other, leading you to shout out, "Bite me, Hangman."

But he smirked and cockily replied, "I have."

The blush that came next could have rivalled Rooster's angry face.

Next came the basketball hoops. Jake went first, and despite you standing in his line of sight, leaning up against the machine to the side, Jake didn't break his focus as he made every shot. You knew it was a failed attempt from the start anyway, given how focused he would have to be flying an F-18.

Unfortunately, you didn't have much luck when it came to your turn. He came up behind you, his hands on your hips, pressing kisses to your cheek and neck, hoping it would distract you enough to miss your shots and allow him to win the game, which he did.

And out of all things, they had axe throwing. If this man could throw a dart with that much accuracy, he had no trouble with the axes. Watching him toss the axe from over his head, muscles bulging, the look of concentration on his face.

The next time you needed firewood for the pit in the backyard, you would ask Jake for some help splitting it, maybe on a hot day.

It got so bad you had to pull him back by his hand, holding on to yours, right in the middle of the crowd as he was leading you to another game, only to grab him by the back of his neck and lay one on him.

But what really got you was when it came time to redeem the tickets, Jake asked if the two of you could pick something out for Sadie - the Navy-themed teddy bear was looped tightly around the straps of your bag as the two of you walked to one of the pop-up restaurants the fair was hosting.

Jake went to find a table as you went to find the bathroom. You stared at yourself in the mirror, realizing your worries this morning and even your vocalizations to Jake in your hallway had been for nothing.

Deep down, you knew Ridley would tell you to stop being so anxious about this and go for it. Jake had already proved, each and every time, he was nothing like the guys that ghosted you or the guys you encountered at school—more than the cocky aviator type you painted him for looking for a good time. Even your lack of experience didn’t phase him and you being the photo in his cockpit? Where did that come from?

And it suddenly struck you that you were doing the same thing you had ratted the squad out for, what his father had been doing to him. Jake was more than what others painted him for. Sadie had realized it long before anyone else did. Before you did. And it took her inviting Jake to a Saturday night and on the hike for you to realize.

Who cares about what he did before he met you? Or what everyone believed he should be doing. He was here, with you, and wanted to be in Sadie’s life.

You were done worrying about what-ifs. Come what may, you thought. You trusted Jake, and you wanted to be with him. In telling yourself that, you realized it was time you allowed yourself to believe in what you refused to admit.

There was nothing wrong with being in love with Jake Seresin.

Walking back, you searched the crowd for Jake, finding him seated at a table, speaking with a waitress. You stepped forward, but out of the blue, somebody checked your shoulder, making you stumble forward. Catching yourself on a nearby empty table, you turned around, angrily calling out, “Watch where your going, Asshole!”

There was a man in a white sweater with his hood up. He didn’t turn around at your voice. Instead, he continued walking down towards the way you had come. You scoffed, adjusting your bag hanging off your shoulder before going to find Jake.

“And here I thought you might have escaped through the window.” He joked, watching as you approached. The waitress was gone, and in his hands were two menus.

“As if I’d leave you now,” you scoffed, placing a hand on his shoulder to balance yourself as you climbed into the seat next to him. Once you were settled, you hooked your arm through his, resting your head on his shoulder.

“What?” you could hear the smile in his voice as he asked, holding out one of the menus to you. But you could only shake your head, smiling fondly into his sleeve as you grabbed the menu from him. “Nothing. I’m just having a good time.”

After ordering and while waiting for the food, you learned Jake was a natural-born storyteller. The minute you asked him about what life was like growing up on a ranch, he launched into multiple stories of shenanigans he and Janet got into, one story in particular almost making you fall out of your chair laughing - Jake telling you he got drunk on a bottle of Rye in high school and ended up walking home, only for his family to have found him passed out in a hay bale in the field the next morning. Or the barn dog everyone hated, a grumpy thing whose bite was worse than its bark.

"And right there, under all those blankets and saddle pads, was the damn Jack Russell, snapping away and chasing us outta the barn at our heels."

Laughing into your glass of wine, you relayed your own story about how Sadie came about her nickname, bringing ladybugs in from the backyard an empty water bottle and how she forgot to screw the top on. Jake fell into your side, laughing when you explained you couldn’t stop finding ladybugs for weeks afterwards.

The conversation continued throughout dinner, Jake learning you broke your wrist skating when you were 15. You learned exactly what his father had planned for him until his grandfather stepped, only furthering your dislike for the man. While you already knew both of you had the same taste in music, you weren’t surprised Jake had a soft spot for country music.

And when your meal was finished, Jake led you out of the makeshift tent; his arm lopped through yours as you snuggled happily up against his side. When you moved towards the parking lot, Jake tugged on your hand, pulling you back into his chest, saying, “I have one more thing planned.”

Yet, when he dragged you over to the line for the Ferris wheel, you felt like you were going to throw up. And you tried, you really did, not to let on that you were terrified to go up in the air. This date was going wonderfully, and you didn’t want to ruin it with something so trivial as this.

So you waited in line with him, listening to him continue the conversation about how he realized he wasn’t meant for football like his brother, even though he loved to watch. But every time the machine stopped and the seats, carts, or cars, whatever they were called, swung with the momentum, you had to force yourself not to jolt.

When your turn came in the line, you tried not to grip Jake’s hand tighter than you should when he helped you into your seat. To loosen your shoulders from being too tight and slouch your back when it was too straight. And when it started to move, you shot your hands out wide, one going for the bar in front of Jake, the other to your side of the cart.

When it stopped, you swallowed hard. Jake looked at you, amused, before finally stating, “You’re afraid of heights.”

“Not really…” you said, looking over the side, wondering how quickly the maintenance crew put up the blasted thing and if they had any missing blots or screws afterwards.

“Come now, you can tell me,” he leaned forward, placing his hand on your wrist of the hand gripping the handlebar. He pressed his nose against your ear, his voice buzzing as he said lowly, “I won’t judge.”

Something metal creaked beneath you, making you jolt, your hand now covering your heart. “It’s not really heights.”

“No?” he murmured lowly. You knew what he was doing, the cocky fucker. No amount of distraction or persuasion would get your mind off the empty space below you. Or get you to admit something you knew he would most definitely take some sort of defence to.

Or worse, try and fix it. Which he was capable of doing.

Jake suddenly rocked back in the seat back, hard. You squealed, plastering yourself into his side, gripping his body tight as you exclaimed, “Flying! I have a fear of flying!”

His hand slid down from over the back seat, finding your hip bone and gripping it tight, tugging you closer. “Now, was that so bad?”

Hiding your face into his shoulder, you replied, “Yes, especially after what you told me. And you're a pilot.”

“A pilot who could help you get over this fear.”

You shook your head against his chest. “Nope. I’m not stepping foot in that thing.”

“You wound me, darling,” he said, exasperated. “Truly.”

“It’s not that I’m against it,” you replied, adjusting yourself against his side, Jake’s hands making sure there wasn’t an inch between the two of you.

“Mav’s offered countless times when he takes Sadie up … I don’t know,” you finished lamely. “I just can’t stand the thought of no ground beneath my feet.”

"I bet I could change your mind."

“Not going to happen,” you challenged back.

“Nope, I guarantee you, I will get you into a plane."

You laughed hoarsely at his words. “Jake…”

“You and me, our next date. I’m calling it.”

“Maybe I’ll sit in it. But that’s it.”

“Nope. If you’re dating a pilot, you must take advantage of that.”

“What about you?” you asked, hoping to get him off-topic. “What are you afraid of?”

But Jake’s laughter died down, his eyes unfocused stared off into the distance. It wasn’t that he didn’t know - The same fear had followed him since high school, on deployments and in the quiet hours when nobody else was around. If he said it out loud, it would, without a doubt, give it power.

And if it had power, it would ruin his chances with you.

You gave him a few minutes, figuring he needed time to think about it. “Is it a hard one?

“Look,” he jutted his head forward. You sat up, turning your head to look out over the field, expecting to find something weird. But you didn’t need to search the crowd or look through the stands. It was obvious what Jake was pointing out to you.

“Whoa.”

Even if it freaked you out, Jake timed the Ferris Wheel perfectly. The sunset was gorgeous, with streaks of soft pastel yellows, pinks, and even hints of purple. The blue was even gentler than the bright hue of the everyday sky.

“It’s so….” you started, but couldn’t finish. You were too in awe of the sight in front of you.

“Beautiful,” he finished for you. It certainly is, you thought. But when you glanced over at him, you caught his eyes on you.

“You’re not watching the sunset, are you?”

“Nope.”

You blushed, deciding to press your cheek back into his chest and gazing at the sky. You could get used to this, you thought, as Jake grabbed the junction of your knee, pulling your legs over his.

With the movement or sounds of creaking metal no longer bothering you, you felt content to snuggle into Jake’s side as the Ferris Wheel swung you both forward again.

He pressed his lips to your forehead, murmuring, “I’m still getting you on a plane.”

“Jake…”

___

The sun had set when Jake and you got off the Ferris wheel. He led you back to his truck with an arm around your waist, content to press the occasional kiss into your hair as the pair of you navigated the crowds.

Jake guided you to the passenger side when you reached the truck. The both of you were hidden out of view from any on-lookers who were heading home. You pressed yourself up against the side as he reached for the handle, ever the gentleman, to open the door and help you up into your seat. But as he turned his head to look at you, you held your head up to look at him with a shy smile.

That shy smile, and the way the light hit the corners of your eyes, had him sucking in a sharp breath. His hand lost its grip, sliding along the side of the truck as he slowly stepped toward you. Watching as he approached you with a heated gaze, you timidly bit the bottom of your lip.

You couldn't see the stars behind his head, nor the lights from the fairgrounds or the warm glow of the string lights making up the parking lot. You could only see him towering over you, his arm stretching out to rest above your head, cocooning between him and the truck. His other hand landed on your cheek, his thumb softly stroking the skin, then gently releasing your lip from its hold before replacing it with his lips.

Moaning against his mouth, you slid your hand up his chest. It was a slow kiss, Jake's tongue tracing the inside of your mouth as if the two of you had all the time in the world.

Jake's hand slithered down your side, finding a grip on your leg. The heel of your boot caught on the step of the truck at his touch, allowing Jake the space he needed to situate himself between your legs, pinning you up against the frame. He nibbed at your neck, teeth working on marking up the opposite side of his handiwork from the hallway. There were bruises, much to your pleasure or displeasure, and you had spent at least half an hour each morning since covering it up. And Jake clearly wanted to add more to it.

But it didn’t stop you from attempting to return the favour, as your mouth managed to land on Jake’s cheek, working down towards his jawline as he tilted his head back. You felt the small spikes of a five o’clock shadow under your soft lips, pressing kisses to his skin. Then in a tiny spark of confidence, you closed them around a patch of skin.

“Fuck Liz,” he growled out, hand tightening on your thigh. “We need to go slow. What happened to not putting out on the first date?”

You let his neck go with a sharp intake of breath. "This is slow."

"Slow is driving you home, walking you to your front door," rasped after a kiss, diving back for another one before adding, "Kissing you goodnight and asking when I can see you again."

“Then why were you teasing me all day?” you gasped out. “I’m just following your lead.”

Jake pulled sharply back, the hand above your head thumping hard on the metal. “I’m not taking you up against my truck in the middle of a dirt parking lot for your first time.”

"Stereotypes are overrated."

Jake growled. You were driving him crazy, testing his resolve, especially after what you admitted to him earlier. It only confirmed he needed to take this slow with you.

Then again, another part of him was elated that he'd be the only one to have ever touched you like this, to feel you like this. That the sounds rising from your body were only because of him.

After securely wrapping your leg around his waist, Jake went for the center of your blouse, fingers single-handly making quick work of the small buttons.

"You would, wouldn't you?" He groaned, fingers searching underneath the helm for the top of your bra before giving a sharp tug down, exposing your nipple to the air. You gasped at the action, the night air caressing your skin.

"Let me do this to you out in the middle of nowhere," he murmured against your skin in between kisses, working inch by inch down to your breast. "Where anyone could walk by."

In three seconds, Jake had your entire breast in his mouth, jaw tense as he sucked hard, his tongue toying with your nipple. You mewled, not used to the sensation.

"Fuck Jake," you whimpered, your head hitting the door as you looked up to the stars, blindly raking your fingers through his hair.

He let it go with a pop. "Pay attention, darlin'. My eyes are down here."

Dropping your chin to your chest, you got a close-up view of Jake staring up at you, lips enclosing around the peak of your breast to work the bud between his teeth lightly. A wail caught in your throat at a particular tug, eyes still focused on his face as you attempted to bring him closer to your chest.

He pulled back, voice husky as he said, "Good girl."

You heaved at the praise, a flush of heat shooting down your body. You started to rock your hips against his, desperate for pressure, friction, anything to soothe the burning sensation in your core. Your jeans prevented you from feeling anything as Jake continued to suck around your nipple.

"Or you'd let me do this."

You moaned, a long yearning sound echoing between the space of the two parking spots when Jake slipped his hand down between your bodies and cupped your core, his thumb pressing on your clit through the seam of your jeans.

"Or this," he chuckled when you bucked your hips off the side of the truck, you seeing more than the stars littering the sky as he rubbed at you with the pad of his thumb. But his hand was gone as quickly as he touched you, leaving you aching and whining for more.

Jake could only think about how beautiful you looked, panting hard and skin flushed, just as affected as he was. He was in awe of you, of how well today went, how you care about him and refuse to believe in how everyone else sees him. He may have needed to assure you you were worth the risk of a broken heart, but he was grateful you were willing to take the chance on him.

But then you fucking sidelined him; your voice was quiet and raspy as you said, “I trust you.”

It was three simple words. And you probably didn’t understand their weight in your frenzied state. Or maybe you did. You told him you didn’t trust many people with this part of you. Perhaps you were telling him he was that person.

Either way, they meant everything to him.

“I want to do this right by you,” he gritted out through his teeth. “But you are making it hard.”

You didn't mean to, but your snicker escaped before it was too late, causing a series of giggles to wrack your chest.

Jake instantly caught on to what you were laughing about, the heat building between you both starting to die down as he softly laughed with you, body shaking as he pressed his forehead into the center of your chest.

"Liz, don't you dare."

But you couldn't help yourself. "Pun intended?"

He went for your sides, fingers poking and scratching at your stomach as you let out a screech, failing to escape his wrath before you finally called out for mercy. Pulling your bra and blouse back over your breast, Jake sighed affectionally, pressing his forehead to yours. "Where have you been all my life, darlin'?"

You didn't know what to say, so you pressed your lips to his, content to simply be in the moment, even if the two of you looked like horny teenagers at a school fair.

Thank god nobody could see the two of you like this right now.

But you were seen.

From the driver’s seat of a little white car with a spoiler on the back, parked three cars down on the opposite side of the lane. It’s passenger watching you and that man, doing whatever the fuck that was, up against that specimen of a truck.

He could hear your laughter from this distance, watching as the man picked you up, you clinging to him all arms and legs as he opened the door and set you inside, closing it before jogging around to the other side.

Watching the truck drive away, he couldn't help but feel some sort of pleasure in the fact he would see you soon. At the place where you were the most vulnerable. When none of those glorified uniform-wearing servants would be able to stop him.

Yes, he would see you soon.

And he wouldn’t leave this godforsaken state without what he came for.

Shit hits the fan from here on out... 👀

Tags:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @genius2050

@brooke-stinson

Part 11: Dream On Coming Soon

Wickett ;)

190 notes · View notes

isuckatwritingsobenice · 1 year ago

Text

𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

Chapter five: Secret Candy Canes

main masterlist // disney nav // tag list form

notes: Modern AU-ish! They're all around 15-16 in this fic, This is not an X Reader fic!! Likes & Reblogs are appreciated !

chapter 4

chapter 6 ( coming soon )

It's Wednesday, which means two more days until Christmas break. It had also been two days since everything had happened with the flowers and the movies. Still, everything must continue. No one was really doing anything in class, as not even the teachers wanted to be there. Violet and Penny sat next to each other, history killing the both of them.

"Wanna get food after school today?" Penny texted the group chat which had been named Futuristic Four, considering how odd they all were. Wilbur, of course came up with the name. In seconds, each one of them began to reply.

Wil: Sure, let me tell my mom

Hiro: can we go to the burger joint, I want their fries

Vi: but they're so greasy :/

Penalicious: true, but they're also really salty ;)

Vi: ... penny do me a favor and log out for me

Wil: HSAHAHA

Hiro: penny where did that come from :00

Penalicious: I was hacked, sorry guys :(

Vi: mhm.. sure

Vi: I just texted my mom, she said I can go

Penalicious: YES, bless your mothers heart

Wil: I love Helen, she makes good food

Hiro: why don't we just tell her mom to cook

Vi: guys my mom isn't a personal chef, and I don't wanna be home right now

Penalicious: what time does this class end? i'm losing my mind

Wil: in like ten minutes

Wil: history isn't that bad

Hiro: says the one with the time machine

Vi: true

Wil: you like english, you cannot speak on this

Penalicious: he has a point

Vi: wow thanks penny -_-

Hiro: whats wrong with english

Vi: nothing they're just lazy

Penalicious: not true

Penalicious: i read

Vi: bed time stories for TODDLERS don't count

Wil: TODDLERS???

Hiro: penny... why...

Penalicious: okay moving on

Penalicious: where are we going to eat?

Penny noticed Violet asking the teacher for something, it was quiet in the class now that they had an actual assignment to do. Then, Violet walked out. Penny assumed she had to go to the bathroom.

Hiro: Idk, I suggested burger joint but Vi doesn't like the fries

Wil: *sent an image*

Penny tapped on the image, and a picture of Violet came up, standing at the water fountain waiting for her turn. The image was taken from inside Wilbur's class. Then, he sent another. This time Violet was looking at the camera, putting the middle finger up at him. Penny giggled quietly to herself.

Vi: Wilbur I'm shaving all your hair off in your sleep

Wil: WHAT?

Hiro: HAHAHAH SHE WOULD

Penalicious: guys they're selling candy canes

Penalicious: a girl in class is talking about it

Vi: it's supposed to be like a secret santa thing i think

Wil: yeah, I ordered one

Hiro: HUH?? AND YOU DIDN'T TELL US???

Penalicious: OMG FOR WHO :0000

Wil: it's not for you guys to know

Wil: i'll think about it, maybe if I'm in the christmas spirit i'll tell you guys

Vi: guys the water fountain broke :(

Vi: the waters too cold

Hiro: i have an extra water bottle if you want

Vi: yes please, thank you

Violet waited a bit outside by the water fountain, and soon enough Wilbur came out. Violet smiled as he shut the classroom door before walking with her around the halls.

"So, who'd you get a candy cane for?" Violet asked, a smug look on her face. From July to now, the two had been what others would call harmless flirts. Usually the banter would be started by Wilbur, but upon recieving new information, Violet decided otherwise.

"I don't know, I guess we'll just have to wait and see." Wilbur shrugged, turning his nose up playfully. Violet giggled as the two walked around for a bit, just wasting time. It was the last period of the day, which was better since almost everyone was trying to just get the day over with.

"My moms having a dinner for my dad later, if you want you can join us. I'm sure she'd be happy to see you." Wilbur said, knowing that Franny had been dying to see Violet.

"Sure, I'll go. Should I bring a gift?" She asks, and Wilbur shakes his head.

"You don't have too. It's just because one of his inventions finally got approved for mass production, so my mom wants to celebrate." Wilbur said as the two stopped outside of her class.

"That's good for him, since he's up in his lab all the time." Violet says, checking her phone to see Penny spamming her with texts. The bell would be ringing soon.

"Go to class, we have a few minutes left."Violet said, standing up a little more to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. He smiled before taking hold of her hand, kissing over it. It was something he did often, since he had been to nervous to actually kiss her again, at least without asking her.

Violet entered class to see Penny waving a candy cane around. Violet's eyes widened as she took her seat. "You got one?" Violet asked, before Penny shook her head, putting it on Violet's desk.

"No, but you did." She said, poking her. Violet took hold of the candy cane, reading the note attached to it. 'Merry Christmas Violet.' Was all it said, with a small heart next to it. Then, the bell rang, everyone getting up from their seats quickly. Violet and Penny walked out into the hall, talking about the candy cane. Penny said she needed to go to her locker, so Violet followed, the two continuing their conversation.

"Who would send you one? Maybe it was brick? Before he got back with Blossom." Penny said, but Violet shook her head.

"No, I don't think he ever really liked me like that." Violet said, before Penny gasped.

"What about Dipper?" Violet almost let out a laugh. Had she been a more honest, less secretive friend, she would've told her it was Wilbur. But she let Penny have her fun being a detective.

"It could be, but it's been a whole like," Violet stopped to count. They had broken up in May of last year. So, eight months. "Eight months, he wouldn't still try to be with me after that long. At least I hope not." Violet said, before Penny nodded, putting some books in her locker. She did care about Dipper, they had been together for five months, but they both agreed they were better off as friends. To her knowledge, he hasn't had another girlfriend since.

"Eight months of what?"Hiro asked, opening Penny's door to look at himself in the mirror.

"Dipper and Vi." Penny said, not noticing the way Wilbur tensed at the mention of it. He was actually friends with Dipper, until he got with Violet. "We're trying to figure out who got her a candy cane." Penny said, grabbing her gym bag from her locker to take it home for the day. Hiro's eyes widened before trying to cover up his expression,

"Oh, that makes sense. But they broke up a while ago." Hiro said, and Violet nodded. Wilbur shrugged, fixing his bag on his shoulder.

"We can talk about that later. I'm hungry." Wilbur said, and Penny closed her locker, pointing down the hall.

"Then let's go. Have we decided where we're getting food?" Penny asked, and Hiro shrugged.

"I dunno, Vi it's up to you." Hiro said, before Violet thought as they all walked down the hall, making their way out of the school.

"Why don't we get pizza? I'm sure they have fries on the menu somewhere." Violet said, and Penny nodded happily.

"Oh yes, pizza sounds good right now." She said, and Violet laughed. Violet took out her headphones and put one in, before offering the other to Penny, who shook her head as a no, deciding to engage in the conversation Hiro and Wilbur had stirred up. Violet put both headphones in as they walked out of the school, the courtyard filled with students. Violet had looked down, checking to see if her mom had sent her a message, before she saw she had actually gotten a message from her friend Luz.

Luz was in and out during the semesters of the year, and she had decided to go back to her other dimension to spend the winter break there.

Luz: Hey! My friends from the 'other side' wanna meet you! Is that okay? If not I can tell them you aren't feeling up to it.

Luz: Plus, Amity is here ;)

"Hey guys." Violet said, taking one headphone out. They stopped and looked at her, stopping on the side of the courtyard. "I'm gonna meet up with a friend real quick, you guys head to the pizza place, I'll be there soon." Violet said, not really giving them a time to answer. Penny raised a brow as she watched Violet quickly walk through the crowd.

"Is she okay?"Hiro asked, before Wilbur shrugged.

"Maybe we upset her?" Wilbur asked, before Penny shook her head, starting to walk again.

"No, when she's upset she doesn't really say anything. Maybe she just wants to see her friend." Penny said, fixing the strap on her shoulder bag. Hiro huffed, pulling on his own bag straps.

"But when do we not know her friends? Aren't we like the only people she talks too?" Hiro asked, before Penny scoffed.

"Please, Violet actually has a good number of friends. She meets them through art class, and music too." Penny said, and Hiro felt uneasy.

"So I have more competition? Is that what I'm hearing?" He asked, and Wilbur chuckled as they rounded the corner, walking down the street.

"It's only competition if you let them think they have a chance." Wilbur said grinning.

"Violet! You made it!" Luz said happily as she saw Violet walk over quickly, shivering a bit.

"Yeah, I'm going out with friends for pizza in a bit so I thought I would come say bye before you leave." Violet said hugging Luz. She smiled as they pulled away, waving to Amity. She had met Amity before, on the first day of school actually. Amity seemed calm, before she stepped to the side to show everyone else. Violet had also met Eda and King, who she thought were actually very funny.

"Hey kiddo, how's it been?" Eda asked, pulling Violet into a side hug while King hugged her leg.

"It's been alright, confusing." Violet said, and Eda gave a sad smile ruffling her hair.

"You're tough kid, you got whatever your dealing with." Eda said, before looking to Luz who motioned to everyone else.

"Violet, these are my friends! This is Willow and Gus, from school." Luz said, and Willow smiled calmly wile Gus grinned a bit. Willows hair was almost a teal color, and she had large glasses. She was around Luz's height, and she smiled sweetly waving. Gus was on the shorter side, around an inch shorter than Willow. His eyes were big and so was his smile. Amity then moved to the other side of Luz, gesturing to two other people, one with longer green hair, and the other with short green hair. Both were dressed in fur coats and warm gloves.

"These are my siblings, Edric and Emira. They insisted on coming along." Amity said with an eye roll, and Emira just smiled, walking over to Violet.

"You must be Violet. My brothers been very excited to meet you." She winks, and her brother blushes. Violet's eyes go wide and she lets out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, I-I couldn't understand why. But I'm flattered." She said smiling to Edric. This was gonna be a lot of explaining later.

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na-ta-sh-aa · 1 year ago

Text

I’m giggling, kicking my feet in the air, screaming into my pillow, twirling my hair and blushing, this was really beautiful!! Their interactions from the beginning were so intense and I loved that the first part of the conversation was done via text, the idea was so original.💌

“Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice.”

I don't know what Alan looked like, but Pretty Girl was definitely lucky to write to Bradley instead of Alan. I mean, Bradley is breathtaking!

“Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?”

This moment was so fun. But Pretty Girl was right to have doubts, it's not every day you meet someone like Bradley so she rightly made sure it was him and to her great joy she discovered that it was actually him in the photo!

“My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?”

Ooh Bradley

“Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.”

Even though he has only known her for a few hours he is already worried about her, Bradley, the wonderful man that you are🥹

“But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

A gentleman, Carole raised him really well🥹

“You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place.”

“He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.”

Ooh they kissed!! I loved how her initial nervousness before meeting him in person immediately vanished the moment Bradley kissed her. He immediately made her feel so important.

“It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

Aww I loved this part, they have a date and have forgotten about Alan🫶🏼 (although to be honest they have to thank his unclear handwriting and the fact that he didn't check to make sure he gave her the right number😂). I like to think about how from the wrong number they met and liked each other immediately.

Truly a beautiful story🥹💞🫧

Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time.

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh.

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret.

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him.

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated.

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up.

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message.

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way.

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface.

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number.

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip.

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice.

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later.

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush.

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be.

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten.

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin.

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning.

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone.

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her.

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him.

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open.

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself.

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on.

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

--------------------------

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face.

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache.

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar.

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit.

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest.

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck.

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

-------------------------

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

Text

Learn to Fly

CW: Self-loathing, some internalized victim-blaming, references to parental death and grief, VERY vague reference to past noncon once or twice

Note: I made a decision to switch a little of the timeline around, so Laken and Chris’s breakup at this point happens after the original conversations about the Speak Out Arc start happening but before the Olympics themselves. I’m folding this bit into the larger Speak Out Arc.

Follows Time Apart and It Doesn’t Work As Well As You’d Hoped

He curls up on the couch in the coffeeshop, sipping something warm he barely tastes. It might have coffee in it - he feels a little drowsy, and that usually happens when there’s just a little caffeine.

Maybe that’s just because he hasn’t slept since Jake was hurt, not really. And he’s slept even less since... since he and Laken broke up.

Outside, there's unseasonable heavy rain. The clouds are low and heavy, a deep gunmetal gray that blocks out the light and has the streetlights on at 9:30 in the morning. The raindrops seem less to fall than to slam into the ground with terrible violence.

The baristas talk in low voices about how grateful they are for the rain, burying the wildfires outside the city in a deluge the heat can’t overcome. Chris likes the rain, too, if only because it reflects the inside of him, suggests that the world can tell he is a storm within himself and reflects it to him.

He takes another sip.

He hasn’t showered in three days. His hair is dulled with it, like a penny left too long in the dirt. He’s dressed himself like he used to, back before when he was still learning he was a person and not a pet - in one of Jake’s hooded sweatshirts over his compression shirt, so oversized on him it’s nearly a tunic, and a pair of mesh basketball shorts. His knees still look knobby, he thinks.

He can see the ghosts of the bruises there that used to never quite heal before his Sir sent him to his knees and made new ones to lay over them. He can see a couple of scars, some from training when the baton would crack into the backs of his legs and send him dropping like a stone, some from gymnastics, some from just being a kid.

Chris’s eyes lower, to look at his own hands holding his coffee cup. He put star stickers on his nails last night, and a few of them have already peeled off. Those that remain glitter, just a little.

Something about the sight of it - the memory of when he put star stickers on Laken’s cheekbones at a concert until they sparkled under the starlight, laughing, a blur of bright eyes and dark hair - makes his throat nearly close, sends a new rush of tears to burn hot behind his eyes.

He has to close them to hold them back.

“You’ve had a hard time of late, have you, then?”

The voice is a rumble, cracked with decades of cigarettes and too much liquor, but Chris remembers it, anyway. At least, he remembers it now.

He turns to look up at the old man, in his shirt and slacks, a bit bent with age. There’s a merry twinkle in his slightly rheumy eyes, though, that shows that a young man is still there, under an old man’s experiences. There’s a slight smile on his face, warm and welcoming.

Chris swallows, struggling to find the words. They flit away from him, he has to chase them down, but eventually he manages to clear his throat and says, “I, I, um. I know you. You, you, you knew my dad.”

“I did, at that. Worked with him for years.” The old man settles onto the other end of the couch, giving Chris plenty of space, a nice wide berth for safety. “What’s got you looking like a television commercial for depression, hm, Tristan?”

No one calls him that.

Chris feels his heart twist, a little.

By the time they saw the meteor, Tris, it was already too late for anything but a blink or two. When it touched down into land, it was so big the end of it was still in space. Can you imagine anything so big? Can you?

No, Dad.

The earthquakes alone would have been immense thousands of miles away. Imagine, you’re eating leaves, living your life, and you see a shadow - and then in an instant, the world is shaking and you’re breathing glass. How does life go on after that?

I, I, I don’t know, um, um... how how does it?

It just does. That’s what’s amazing, Tris. It just goes on.

“Nothing. I, I, I broke up with my, my partner is all.”

“Hm, that nice young person who comes with you to the shops?” The old man nods, slowly. He’s got his own cup of coffee, plain black, steaming gently into the air-conditioning. Outside, the rain creates a curtain that walls them off from everything else. Chris can’t even see all the way across the street. He can barely see a woman with an umbrella racing from her car into the nail salon place off to the side.

“Yeah, them. I’m, um. It wasn’t anything they they they did.”

It’s something I did.

It’s something I am.

It’s something I’ll never stop being.

“Well, breakups do happen now and again. Usually the one who does the leaving isn’t the one who does the moping about and staring at rain, though.”

“I didn’t want to.” Chris sits back, keeping his coffee cup in one hand. The other drops to his stomach, to tap, soothing his nerves at being so close to a man he knows and doesn’t-know. His memories are there, fuzzy and hazy from being overwritten by fear and pain, but they’re there. He knows this man, Mr. Malley, who would watch him sometimes when his parents went out, or when his father needed to stop by work.

The memories are there, but they still hurt.

His head starts to throb, a pulsing pain behind his temples.

“I didn’t-... I, I love them, I d-didn’t want to.”

“Well, now, that’s a conundrum, isn’t it? Are you moving, then, Tristan?”

It hurts to hear his name, but it hurts in a way that feels good. He was that person, too, before he was Chris. He hums, low under his breath. “No. I, I, I just… you know, um, I’m just. I’m… hard. Difficult. To, to, to, to be with, to, um, to-... there’s a bunch wrong with-... with me.”

“You sound like your dad.” Mr. Malley laughs, a deep chuckle that rumbles more in his chest than out of his throat. “You know that? You sound just like him.”

Chris ignores the pain in his head and he turns, now, to look fully at Mr. Malley, blinking rapidly. “My, my, my dad?”

“Yep. Paul was a good man, and a good dad, but before he was that he was a scared boy with a baby on the way and a plan that might not work.” Mr. Malley sighs. “A scared boy who’d always had it a little rough, trying to make the world work for him when it did nothing but work against him. You were always his spitting image. He’d probably be tickled to see you still are.”

There is a sense, in Chris’s mind, of a blurry man with short red hair, sitting near him but not quite touching him, speaking with animation about how there are dinosaurs that lived closer to human beings than they did to other dinosaurs.

He remembers a man whose eyes sparkled with animated focus when he talked about the world millions of years ago, who loved him by sharing the information he held within his own mind.

He and his dad had understood each other, in ways that no one else did but his mother, and Chris was beginning to see that it had been her determination to know him that had fueled his mother’s actions, her endless support. The same way Jake and Nat were determined, and stubborn, and kept trying even when they got it wrong.

Everyone gets it wrong sometimes, but that doesn’t… that doesn’t mean they aren’t trying.

Maybe he got it wrong.

“He never broke up with your mom, but oh, he thought about it. You know, when he came to work with us, he had a plan. But plans… they have a way of going off the road and into a ditch. He worried he couldn’t make it work, he worried that it would be too hard for Ronnie to be with him and have a child, too.”

Ronnie.

Chris’s throat closes up, and he closes his eyes.

All right, Tris, I got you these so the noise won’t bother you so much. We’re going to have a good day at the parade, okay?

“Her family never liked him, for one. That’s a rough spot to be in, I think.” Mr. Malley is quiet for a moment, sipping his coffee and watching the rain fall. “Ronnie didn’t see it that way, of course. That woman was a freight train and God help anyone who got in the way. My late wife, God rest her soul, helped Ronnie with some things when her own family wouldn’t. She’d come over big as a house, eyes sparkling. You were a kicker, she used to say, kept her up all hours of the night. Just a girl, still, your mom, but she had a steel spine and she wasn’t going to live any life but the one she wanted. But your dad… he worried, that it would be too hard on her.”

“Having, um, having me would?”

“No. Having him. Paul was a smart man, you know. He knew his job would be trouble. He gave her chance after chance to go, if she wanted. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? She didn’t.”

Chris looks at his phone, lying on the little table in front of the couch. There’s some text messages he hasn’t looked at. Couple of voicemails he hasn’t listened to.

“Maybe he, he, he didn’t want to keep hurting her,” Chris whispers.

“Hurt’s a part of living, lad, take it from someone who’s given out his fair share of it and more.” Mr. Malley hums. Outside, a car pulls up, almost bumping the curb. “Perhaps you’re meant to separate from your young partner, Tristan, perhaps not. It’s like I told your dad, way back in the Stone Age. You choose if you love someone, to be sure, but they choose if they love you back. You can’t decide that for them.”

“But, but I’m-... but, but I’ve been… what I am, it’s-”

“I know what you’ve been made to do,” Mr. Malley says gently. “You don’t have to explain, lad. We knew.”

Chris’s lips tremble. He doesn’t want his coffee any longer. He sets it down next to his phone, on the little table. The baristas talk quietly about a date that one went on the night before, there’s a low sound of machinery. It all filters into Chris’s mind, a cacophony of sound he picks apart or doesn’t. Right now it’s hard for him to think around all the sound, but he tries. “Then, then, then why… if you knew, um, why… didn’t you-”

He can’t finish the question.

Why didn’t you save me from it?

“We couldn’t. It’s shite, is what it is, but we couldn’t. And by the time we could, you were with that nice young man who you live with now. I’m sorry for the time you lost, Tristan, and sorrier still I can’t give it back to you somehow. You’re your dad’s child through and through, but you’ve got your mother in you, too. You know what Ronnie did when there was something she couldn’t get through?”

Chris turns to look at this man, who knew his mother and father in ways he never could have. He swallows. “What?”

“She went over it. Or around it. Or blew it to smithereens and went through the wreckage. Whatever it took. They tried to kick you out of school when you were a wean, she fought them ‘til they realized they’d never win against her. They tried to tell her you wouldn’t read, she told them to go, well, to go sit on a thing or two and not to tell her what her boy could or couldn’t do.”

Chris thinks of Nat sitting next to him on the floor, patiently encouraging him to keep trying to turn the letters into words, despite his headaches, his tears, his certainty he’d never get reading back.

You will, Chris. I know you will. Just keep fighting for it. They won’t take anything from you forever, I won’t let them and you won’t let them either.

Don’t let them keep you from yourself.

“They told her she’d never have a happy life, having a wee one so young, but she built that happy life anyway with her own two hands and dared anyone to try and knock it down.”

“Someone… some, someone did, though.” The gunshots, his mother’s eyes going dull and blank, her whispered I love you so much, Tris…

“Sure. Yes.” Mr. Malley’s expression goes serious, and sad. “But it took breaking into her house at midnight and bullets to stop her. You’ve got plenty of your mom in you, lad. Plenty of your dad, too, he was always a stubborn git himself. Do you love this person you’ve broken up with? Hm?”

“Yes.” The answer comes without hesitation, even though his voice shakes and his heart races. “I, I, I do. That’s, that’s why I don’t want to-to keep hurting them by, by, by by being messed up from what, um, from what happened to me, I don’t… I don’t want to keep h-hurting them-”

“Let them decide how they feel about that,” Mr. Malley says, voice gentle and low. “Plenty of people are hurt and find their way forward together after.”

Jake and Kauri, laughing in the kitchen as Jake spins Kauri around in a circle, dips him backwards, presses a kiss to his nose that has him giggling.

Antoni at the stove, sighing but with a smile on his face, watching them. Being pulled into the hug not quite against his will, all three of them laughing then. Kauri bright and sparkling, Jake a deeper harmony, Antoni soft and genuine.

“Maybe it won’t last, maybe it will - but don’t let a hard past keep you from the people who love you. I’ve seen many ruined by believing you may only be loved if you’ve no pain inside you. We’ve all got pain, lad. Carrying it together’s a sight easier than trying to go it alone.”

From the car parked right outside, an elderly man unfolds himself, opening an umbrella to shield from the driving rain. Mr. Malley looks up and smiles. “Ah, right on time, must be ten sharp. That’ll be Cilly. D’you remember Cilly, lad?”

Chris looks as the man shuffles his way inside, pushing open the door. The little bell over the top jingles and the baristas cut off their conversation, standing up straight to call out a familiar greeting to a regular customer.

He squints.

“Not… not very well,” He confesses, a little ashamed.

“Ah, well, that’s not a problem. He and I’ve known each other a long time. I was an angry man for a while after my wife died, you know. Seemed a crime that I should outlive her, when Christa deserved to live to a hundred and six if she so wished. Cilly helped me carry that anger when I needed to be angry, and he helped me put it down later on.”

He gives a wave to the man - to Cilly - who looks at Chris and then back to Mr. Malley with clear surprise, then heads towards the counter to make his own order.

“Be angry, Tristan,” Mr. Malley says, a little heavily, leaning over to him on the leg as he pushes himself, with a grunt of effort to his feet. “You may need your anger, in the days ahead. But if you’ve a love to help you carry it, who wants to help you carry it and who will be angry right there with you, and you love them back… well… don’t let the wickedness of others keep you from the happiness you could have. You’ll be a poorer person for it.”

Mr. Malley walks away without another word, leaving Chris by himself again on the couch, tapping at his stomach, thinking. He keeps looking at his phone, thinking about all the texts he hasn’t read, the way he’s refused to call them back when Laken kept trying to reach him.

He leans over to reach out.

He stops, hand hovering just above the plastic with its colorful case, the sensory sticker on the back of it that Laken had bought him.

What happened after all the dinosaurs died, Tristan?

I, I, I don’t know, Dad.

Trick question, buddy. They didn’t. Paul’s eyes, bright and vibrant, gesturing to a bird in a tree nearby. Nothing stays the same and lives forever except alligators and sharks.

Right because, because they’re perfect.

Exactly. Dinosaurs died, sure, but they didn’t die, too. They just changed to suit the world after the one they knew how to live in was gone. Imagine, Tris.

Imagine what?

Imagine the world destroyed and in darkness, buried in ash. Everything you know is gone, ruined, wrecked beyond repair. And imagine… imagine that you learn to eat seeds and little mice instead of big animals and leaves. Imagine you become smaller and smaller. Imagine that your arms turn to wings, that your bones hollow out to carry you higher above the piles of ash that turn to grass and to life again.

What? I, I, I don’t, um, I don’t understand-... Dad, um, I don’t, I don’t... know what you mean.

Right, sorry. Just... imagine you’re a dinosaur.

He’d laughed. Okay.

Now imagine your dinosaur family is gone, and you have to become something else. What do you become? Being a dinosaur means dying, right?

Um. Right.

So imagine that you look at death and say, no thanks. No, you’re not going to be over. This isn’t it for you. Even a meteor the size of the entire sky can’t end you. Instead of dying out, no, you look at history, at geological time, and you say…

Paul had trailed off.

Say what? What, what do I say?

Don’t tell your mom but-... you look at the end of the world and you say... fuck this, I’m going to learn to fly.

Chris picks up his phone, finds Laken’s name and photo in his contacts. It’s a photo of the two of them together, Chris and Laken smiling and laughing as he smears whipped cream on their nose and they smear a cross of fluffy white into his forehead.

He dials.

They pick up on the third ring.

“Chris? Oh my God, Chris, are you okay? Are you-... are you okay, baby?” Their voice shakes, and he closes his eyes.

This time, he lets the tears slip out and run down his face. “H-Hey, Laken, um, I, I, I-... I’m… I wondered if you, um, if you could, uh… are you busy?”

“Am I-... Chris, where are you?”

“The, um, the coffeeshop-”

“I’m on my way. Don’t you dare fucking move.”

At their usual table, at their usual time, Cilly and Sean Malley start to talk amicably about the week ahead. But he keeps an eye on Paul’s boy, where he speaks a few sentences and then hangs up the phone, looking out the window at the rain.

It’s twenty minutes before a new car pulls up outside, and umbrella-less, the partner Sean has seen with Tristan before comes racing inside, a blur of black clothes and black hair and brown skin. Paul’s boy stands, and his partner throws themself at him so hard the two of them fall backwards onto the couch.

They start laughing, and shortly after to cry.

Their hands come up to either side of Tristan’s face, and they lean forward to kiss the scar on his forehead. He can’t hear what they say to each other, but he doesn’t need to.

Ronnie, he thinks, would like this spitfire person that Paul’s boy is so in love with.

That’s one wrong put right, at least for the moment.

One more to go.

Sean smiles and sips his cooling coffee.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

Just Go On from Kimmy Schmidt

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cheesy09 · 3 years ago

Text

Scorching Night

This oneshot was based off of Kiro’s Stardust Date, and takes place right after it (Because the angst in that date was immaculate 😩)

I know it's been a while since I've written anything, so I sincerely thank you guys for sticking around (´꒳`)♡

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing: Kiro x MC (third person POV) Word Count: 2,800 Genres: Romance, Angst (a lot of it T^T) Warnings: Super suggestive!

"The reward I want more right now... is you."

His soft words echoed in the back of her head, along with the memory of his scorching lips. The wrapping of an insatiable tongue around her own, the taste of him intoxicatingly sweet; so much so, that she wanted to drown in him.

She knows she shouldn't think about it too much, but that scene was engraved in her mind. Playing on repeat, over and over; like a broken record.

The burning touch, his breathless whispers, and the half-lidded gaze that carried a mixture of light and shadow in its unfathomable depths...

She blushed at the thoughts running through her head. Especially since the subject of said 'thoughts' was now seated right next to her in the back of the car, their shoulders only mere inches apart. She could feel his warmth, even though they weren't touching, making the tiny space all the more suffocating.

Ever since they left the concert venue, Kiro hadn't said a thing. Nor did she, for that matter. If Savin was here he would have frowned once he noticed the odd silence between them, but he wasn’t, which she was grateful for because she didn't know how she would have reacted. And even worse, how she would've faced Kiro.

After all, she couldn't stop thinking of him; the way he kissed her, his lips burning against her own...

Or the way he called her name after that, his voice dyed in the colors of a fire; warm and passionate.

By no way was that their first kiss. Not by a long shot. But the urgency of his lips on hers had left her dizzy and short of breath.

She thought back to those warm, sultry nights—nights just like this one—when hands wandered a little too far, and makeouts got a little too intense. Moments when that velvety voice of his—his whispers and soft sighs—were hers and hers alone. The memories sent a shiver down her spine and she forced herself to stop thinking, lest she sailed into even more treacherous waters.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes.

Kiro was looking out the window, a hand tucked under his chin, seemingly lost in thought. The passing street lights cast a faint glow on his features, illuminating his intense and solemn eyes.

She couldn't tell what it was that he was thinking about, but he suddenly moved and let out a faint breath, running a hand through his hair, his long fingers raking through the silky blonde strands and exposing his clean forehead.

Then his hand slid down, following the slender curve of his neck to his chest, and he undid a button of his shirt. He let out another light sigh and fell back against the car seat, his expression carrying a hint of tiredness and frustration.

Seeing that, she frowned, and couldn't help asking "Is something wrong?"

Not expecting the question, Kiro's eyes shot in her direction. His blue irises darkened slightly, and then unhurriedly looked away as he instinctively slid his hand into his hair again, his posture languid and a tad bit sexy.

"Nothing, it's just..." his tongue—one that had been wonderfully exploring her mouth just a few hours ago—flitted out, and slowly wetted his bottom lip. "...really hot."

His voice was low, sitting on the edge of something. But his words seemed to have an added layer to them, hot and heavy, as if they were heated up by the burning tip of his tongue. She felt her heart rate speed up, and her face burn, the sizzling tension between them so thick, it was almost overwhelming.

"Yeah," she replied, shyly tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, her voice so soft even she could barely hear it. "It is."

She shifted her sight then to look out the window, but she could feel Kiro's smoldering gaze on her, searing into her skin, which just made her cheeks grow redder.

She didn't know why, but ever since his declaration of love a few days ago, Kiro had been acting a bit differently than usual. His body language became more and more solemn with each passing day, and even those unwavering eyes of his got a tad bit brighter.

Like he had made up his mind about something.

What it was, she didn’t know. But what she did know was that whatever it was, it made her uneasy.

“Promise me, alright? Don’t forget me even if I leave.”

The words he had spoken then sounded grim and final, laced with so much yearning it took her breath away.

Her heart ached. The Kiro she had been holding then had felt like mist. Like he could have evaporated the second she took her eyes off him. Distant and vulnerable. Lonely. And the fact that he was leaving the country tomorrow for a photoshoot made her even more anxious.

"Penny for your thoughts?" A tender voice rang out close, intimate. She turned.

She didn't know when, but Kiro had moved closer to her, approaching her with those brilliant azure orbs, closing the distance between them. His body heat radiated off of him in warm currents, sucking out the very air from the atmosphere until all she could breath and touch was him. He smelled of fresh pine and musk, invading her senses, making her ears buzz and her tongue fuzzy.

Just like the way he barged into her life, she thought. With his dazzling smiles and warm hugs, occupying ever nook and corner with his existence, stealing her mind, body and soul.

By God, she loved him. She loved him more than life itself.

She didn't know if she had been aware that their driver wasn't watching or if she just didn't care, but she leaned up and pecked him on the corner of his mouth, lacing their fingers together in the dark empty space between their bodies, as if filling a void.

She felt possessed, her desire to get closer to him emboldening her to press further into him, breathing in his scent and burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Mmm... you smell really nice," she sighed wistfully.

She felt Kiro stiffen under her, and his grip on their interlaced fingers instantly tightened. She could almost the picture the turbulence in his eyes when he said "God, you are making this so much harder."

Kiro's breath was ragged and his voice dark and guttural, carrying with it something unspoken that made her heart thud and a fire stir in the pit of her stomach. She raised her head to look into his eyes and felt her breath catch at the storm that was brewing within them. They flickered down to her parted lips, and she suddenly felt hot all over.

"We’ve arrived, sir," a voice called from the front and they both instinctively pulled back, the spell broken.

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

The walk to the front door of his house had been a silent one, neither of them knowing what to say. Her mind was in a frenzy, and her heart was doing no better. All of her thoughts seemed to center around only one person.

"Just so you know," Kiro's voice broke through her thoughts, now back to its usual chipper, as he opened the door to his house. "I didn't really have time to clean up, so my place is in a bit of a mess. Don't say I didn't warn you."

She laughed, slightly relaxing under the usual, familiar atmosphere.

Kiro was a mystery in that sense. On one hand he could leave her all hot and bothered, desperately wanting his hands on her. And on the other hand, he could make her laugh and be free. "No worries. It's not like I'm any better."

"Oh, yeah! I still remember those dozens of magazines of me on your bed-"

"Kiro!" She whined, red with embarrassment. "I thought you said you would forget about that!"

"I made no promises," he replied, with feigned solemnness.

They walked into the house, their laughter ringing, and as soon as the lights turned on, she spotted the packed suitcases and travel bags in the living room, coldly reminding her of the fact that Kiro was still supposed to leave the very next morning.

She was used to it—constantly having to separate from him. Their jobs had required that of them. They would text and video call each other every day to fill in that void.

But for some reason, today was different.

Her chest felt tight, and she took in a shaky breath.

"I see you're all set for tomorrow," she remarked as Kiro discarded his jacket onto the sofa, leaving himself in only a black shirt and dark jeans. She had to stop herself from letting her eyes rove over the exposed skin of his well-defined collarbones, and instead, looked towards the side, her hands clenched into fists, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Stop getting tempted, she chided herself.

Kiro gazed at the baggage and laughed, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah. My flight’s at ten in the morning, so I had to pack early.” Saying that, he walked towards her, his familiar body temperature approaching her again.

His eyes were like blue flames, torching her soul, fanning the flames that never stopped burning. She swallowed, rapidly turning towards the door. Her voice sounded a little flustered. “Then I’ll take your leave. You should go and rest up for tomorrow.”

She was almost there, only an inch away, but before she could even touch the door handle, a scorching hand wrapped around her waist and her back was instantly pulled up against a firm chest.

She felt his breath before she heard him speak.

“Where do you think you’re going, Miss Chips?” he whispered, his voice shaded with sensuality. Dark and hungry. “You need to finish what you started.”

“What’re you talking about?” She sighed, automatically leaning back into his touch, her heart racing a mile a minute. “You’re the one who kissed me first.”

“Maybe,” he murmured. “But you’re the one who kept the fire going.”

His hand reached up above her and before she knew it, the lights were switched off.

“Kiro, you—”

“Stay.” His hot lips pressed against her ear and a shiver ran down her spine. “Please stay.”

Kiro’s arms had completely encircled her at that point, and she was distracted by the movement of his lips over her skin as they travelled from her neck, down to her bare shoulder. She couldn’t help but sigh blissfully in his arms.

“You may have to look for me next time.”

Suddenly, his words from earlier came crashing into her mind, like an unexpected boulder, snapping her back to reality. The unease was back, like a snake coiling around her heart, and she opened her eyes in a daze.

“Kiro....” Even in her own ears, she could hear the longing that filled that whisper. That drunkenness from before came over her again and she hooked a hand around his neck, softly caressing his nape.

Kiro purred at her touch, and she turned her head to the side, her lips brushing his cheek in the process. “Don’t go,” she pleaded.

He froze for a second, body almost rigid, and silent... But then sighed the very next instant, spinning her around and pinning her up against a wall. She didn’t even have time to think before she felt his mouth latching onto hers.

The temperature instantly spiked up, and she felt her body ignite against him. Their lips moved in sync, expressing something that couldn't be put to words.

Pain, reluctance, longing, desire.

She didn't know why, but the way he kissed her made her heart ache.

Her hands were on the front of his shirt and she stroked the skin of his collarbones and chest, eliciting a soft groan out of him as he shivered. Kiro was lean, and firm; beautifully sculpted under her palms, and she felt her fingers travelling down, undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt.

"Miss Chips...." Kiro sighed against her mouth, and hooked his arms under her legs, prompting her to wrap them around his waist. He put his lips over her eyes, nose, chin and throat, his kisses like silk, melting into her skin. She gasped when she felt him suck on the sensitive spot of her neck.

"Mmm... Kiro, c-can we go to the bedroom first?" she whispered, her legs itching to pull him closer. His black shirt was now creased and disheveled, slipping past his shoulders, the dark material offering a beautiful contrast to his white skin under the pale moonlight.

He was gorgeous. So incredibly, undeniably gorgeous.

Her love, her light.

What would she ever do without him?

Kiro slowly pulled away from her neck, leaned up and kissed her again, softly this time, but still enough to steal away her breath again. It was tender and affectionate, but belied a passion that was on the verge of loosing control.

It made her heart skip a beat.

He laughed breathlessly against her lips, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke.

"Your wish is my command, my Miss Chips."

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

Ten seconds. That’s how long it took them to get to the bedroom.

It was like a secret shared in the darkness. One that was littered with kisses and soft sighs. Charming and intoxicating, just like him.

As soon as she locked the door of his room behind them, his hand latched onto the back of her head, and he drew her into that sweet vortex once again.

Their bodies pressed together with urgency and their hungry mouths moved, as if trying to rob each other of breath. His unbuttoned shirt had left his chest exposed to her, and she trailed her fingers over his skin in a slow, sensuous drag, making him gasp into her mouth and press into her even harder.

As if in retaliation, his tongue slipped in between her lips and she moaned with pleasure at the sensation. She knew it. He was driving her nuts.

And yet, despite all of this, those daunting fears and anxiety over his departure never seemed to dissipate.

They tugged at her nerves, as if taunting her, causing her to kiss him harder, pull him closer.

The two had reached the edge of the bed by then, and she pushed him to sit down, straddling him in the process.

Kiro's eyes were half-lidded and dilated, a look of complete intoxication casted over his beautiful features. Golden hair framed his face and his cheeks were flushed under her fingertips. Looking at his perfectly messy appearance, a small bit of pride bloomed in her chest. She hoped she made him at least half as crazy as he made her.

She felt tears burn in the corner of her eyes.

Who was she kidding? She'd never be able to let go.

"Miss Chips?" She heard Kiro call when he felt her grip tighten over his shirt. She had been oddly quiet the past few seconds and he was starting to get worried. "Is something wrong?"

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Don't leave," she whispered urgently.

She dropped another kiss on the side of his nose, caressing his cheeks. "Please don't."

One on the corner of his lips. She could hear the crack in her voice and the moisture gathered over her eyelashes was enough to tell her she was about to cry. "Don’t go somewhere where my hands can't reach you."

"M-miss Chips," Kiro pleaded, his whisper breathy and soft, his eyes barely open in the face of her intensity. They were so close, just a few centimeters apart, and their hot breaths entangled in the space between them.

"Even if it's a lie, tell me you won't leave me," she said, desperation clouding her mind. Her lips ran over the shell of his ear, trying to place feverish kisses over every inch of him.

She tried not to look at his expression. To see the pain and sadness that flashed in those deep sea blue eyes. Because if she did, she would break.

Kiro paused for a moment. A brief instance of hesitation. The only sounds were their rapid and heavy breathing.

"I won't."

His voice was low, barely even there. But hearing his words, her heart finally grew somewhat at ease. She finally closed the gap between them then, kissing him square on the mouth. Slowly, deeply.

She'd worry about the rest of those unfinished words in the morning. But for tonight, they had each other, and that was enough.

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my works, please refer to my masterlist (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

#mlqc #mlqc fanfiction #mlqc kiro #kiro fanfiction #mlqc fanfic #kiro fanfic #oof that was one angsty end wasn't it?#NOW EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO DIG MYSELF A HOLE AND HIDE THERE

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mctherofdragons · 3 years ago

Text

A Sanctuary Heart | 3 | SR

summary / after her abusive husband lands her in the intensive care unit, y/n changes her identity and moves as far away as possible. upon starting her new life, she meets dr.spencer reid and his son, maddox, when she begins her job as a teacher. but can she keep herself safe and keep up the facade with spencer? can she be safe at all?

pairing / spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings / slowburn romance, fluff, angst, marriage, trauma, domestic violence/abuse, dad!spencer, wheelchair use, paralysis, injury, ptsd flashbacks, car accident/serious injury, bullying, mention of ableism, a singular mention of god.

important links / series masterlist + domestic violence resources

authors note / i absolutely adored writing this chapter, omg. we get more of spencer and maddox's backstory. and things start to get a little more exciting as the rest of the team makes their first appearance! thank you all for the great feedback so far, i'm so glad you're enjoying the series. also my tags are not working, so reblogs on this chapter would be insanely appreciated. Flashbacks are in italics!

Seeing the blood on your hand, Spencer instinctively reached out to grab your wrist gently. You snatched your hand back, bringing yourself up to your feet, wobbling. You grabbed your bag, wrapping your hand in your scarf that you had managed to take off in the cool October night.“Ivy,” he said the moniker one more time and you felt your insides reel once more.

‘I’m a liar, Dr. Reid, I wish you knew,’ you thought to yourself, stumbling to search for your keys under the warm glow of the moon.

“I have to go. Thank you for dinner,” you contended, making your way out of the side gate. Spencer watched in confusion as you made your way out quickly. He figured he ought to chose his battles, not wanting to startle you by following after you.

Once you were safe inside your car, you sat in the driver’s seat, hands gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life. You felt a sharp combination of embarrassment and frustration. You wanted the flit of light that came from the possibility of new love. But instead, the one before had taken everything from you. Even now, all these miles and a new name away, he was pulling you away from those little flickers of brilliance and back into the darkness of yourself.

_____________________________

2 years earlier.

“Maddox,” Spencer whispered, feeling his heavy eyelids open just slightly. He was disoriented, noticing that the once right-side-up roadway was now upside down instead. The loud blaring of the horn was constant. It sent a piercing sound into Spencer’s ears and head, which caused him to wince. “Maddox.”

Spencer tried to turn, but he couldn’t move. Something had him pinned in the driver’s seat. He looked into the review mirror, which by grace alone wasn’t entirely broken. Maddox was slumped in his car seat, blood trickling down onto his Toy Story tee shirt. Spencer let out a weak gasp, trying again with no avail to move.

Spencer noticed how cold it was. It had been snowing all night, and Spencer wasn’t sure how long they had been where they are now. The snow had fallen through the shattered glass, tiny flakes gathering anywhere they could.

Using all of his strength, he turned his head to his wife. Her eyes were half shut, a trickle of crimson come from her mouth.

“Baby,” Spencer whispered. “Are you alright?”

She began to speak, but began to sputter, her lungs sounding flooded. Her hand curled and uncurled, and Spencer could barely reach it. He was able to hold onto her fingertips with his. They felt ice-cold like she was already three steps into Eternity. Spencer knew that type of frigid touch. He had come in content with it a million times, and the person on the other end was never living.

“D-don’t talk, baby. Okay? The ambulance is coming. Do you hear them? We’re going to be okay.”

Spencer could hear the medics somewhere far off in the distance. The repeated echo of the sirens sounded like a band of angels to him. Spencer Reid admittedly didn’t believe in the Judeo-Christian God. He wasn’t sure what he gave credence to, in fact. But at that moment, inverted in the shattered glass, surrounded by the labored breathing of his dying wife...he prayed.

________________________________

Spencer walked into the Bureau, adjusting the brown satchel on his shoulder. His brow looked furrowed as he sipped from his paper coffee cup. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way you left, trying to profile what exactly had gone wrong between the Merlot and you rushing out of his backyard.

“Penny for your thoughts?,” Emily piqued as Spencer sat down, tossing his bag onto his desk. Spencer let out an exasperating sigh, taking another drink of his coffee.

“Just trying to figure someone out.”

“Oh, oh, oh. Is this a lady someone?,” Derek queried, wiggling his eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning onto Spencer’s desk with a sparkling grin.

“Maybe.”

Spencer felt himself smiling despite his best efforts. Emily opened her mouth in surprise, giving Derek a playful shove.

“I told you he would get back out there, Morgan!”

Spencer smiled. “Yeah, she’s sweet. I just...don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

That morning, Spencer had put on his wedding band. He still did it when he was scared, or nervous, or needing to feel close to her. He would feel the cool metal atop his finger and feel less alone. For a brief moment when the metallic touched his skin, he could pretend she was still here.

Derek gave Spencer’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.

“I hope you know me and Prentiss are just messing with you. We care about you, kid. We know these past two years have been hell for you. Just want you to be happy.”

“Yeah…I appreciate that. I just…,” Spencer paused, bringing his hands up as he spoke, as was so akin to him. His lip curled into the smallest smile. “Seeing this girl interact with Maddox. She...loves him for him..already?”

“Maddox is a great kid, Reid.”

“I know. I just don’t want her to find out---”

Spencer’s sentence was cut off by Hotch appeared, letting everyone know they had a case and to meet for Round Table. Spencer quickly shot a text to Maddox’s home health nurse, letting her know he’d need coverage for a few days.

________________________________

You sat in the front of your classroom, your eyes scanning from the test in front of you to the answer key. The students were working on a Social Studies project in small groups. Their task was to read a short story about colonial times and fill out a short worksheet. If they finished early they were permitted to color, which most of the children thoroughly enjoyed.

“Maddox can’t use crayons,” you heard a small voice snicker. You raised your eyebrow, hoping it wasn’t harmful, and rather just an observation.

You heard another child sling a slur at Maddox, who was sitting quietly with his aide, trying to ignore them. But as you looked up, you saw Maddox’s tiny bottom lip begin to wobble. One of the children picked up a crayon and threw it at Maddox, hitting him in the shoulder.

“He can’t even feel that! My dad said that’s why he’s in a wheelchair,” the bully jeered again, high-fiving his friend.

You stood up with a loud squeak of your chair against the linoleum floor.

“You two. Principals office. Now.”

The rest of the class erupted in a chorus of childish ‘ooo’s. You clapped your hands together - your universal signal to quiet down.

“I did not ask for comments from the audience,” you scolded. The children settled down, going back to their work, whispering amongst one another.

“Maddox, come talk to me in the hallway,” you offered. Tears were rolling down Maddox’s cheeks. His aide reached over with a tissue to wipe them, but he turned his face away, one of the only ways he could physically set a boundary.

Maddox’s aide helped him into the hallway and then left the two of you alone. You sat down on one of the small, metal benches in the hallway. At this angle, you were about Maddox’s height. He was blubbering, trying to take deep breaths as more tears came. You pulled a small, clean, cloth handkerchief from your pocket. He let you dab his cheeks, giving him a gentle click of the tongue.

“Buddy, do you want to talk about it?”

“T-they’re so m..m..mean to me,” he whimpered, closing his eyes as more tears fell. “And, and, and I can’t play with them even, that’s why. I can’t do anything!”

You nodded empathetically, gently catching more of Maddox’s tears.

“I hate school! My daddy wants me to like school. It’s all he talks about. I hate him!”

“Maddox,” you softly redirected. “That’s not very nice. You don’t hate your dad.”

Maddox looked a deep breath. You smiled, knowing Spencer must have taught him to do that when he was upset.

“You’re right. But I’m sad, and I wanna go home.”

You sighed, reaching up to blot the little bit of redness still present on Maddox’s cheeks. You adjusted his glasses, moving some of his curly brown hair from underneath the metal.

“Just a few more hours, okay? We have library at the end of the day.”

Maddox’s face lit up, his apple cheeks glowing beneath the rims of his glasses. “Library!”

“Yes, and just for this week, you can take home two books.”

______________________________

Spencer felt distracted the entire flight to Vermont. He knew he was going to be far away for a while, and that Maddox wouldn’t know until he got out of school for the day. The agent detested when he had to leave without Maddox knowing in advance, but it was usually impossible given the nature of things. Thankfully, Reid had a good setup of support through healthcare and respite so Maddox never went without someone to care for him.

Then, there was you. He couldn’t stop thinking about your reaction. He had seen it before in abuse victims. The way you flinched when he moved too fast, the apologizing like your life depended on it, even the way you looked at him with pleading eyes, desperate to avoid a blow. He bridged his fingers together, thinking to himself for a moment.

With that, he stood up, making his way to the back of the plane. He unlocked his phone while he chewed his fingernail with his free hand. Before he knew it, he was calling Garcia.

“Penelope. Hey, I need a favor. A personal one. If you could keep it between us, that would be great.”

“Anything for you, my precious string bean.”

Spencer laughed. “I need you to get all the information you can on someone. Ivy Porter.”

“Ivy Porter. That’s like a movie star name. What did she do?”

“Um..nothing, I don’t think. Just call me when you’ve got something, and email me everything you find.”

“You got it. Every in and out of Ms. Ivy Porter coming to you soon. Be safe. Talk soon.”

With that, Penelope clicked off of the call. Spencer sat back down, anxiously waiting for whatever information Penelope could find about you.

___________

series/criminal minds taglist: @hufflepuffhaze @omghufflepuff @txtdreamss @rainbows-dreams @bvttercupbby @k-k0129 @rexit-mo @britishspidey @graciehams @manuosorioh @shemarmooresfedora @big-galaxy-chaos @thatoneszesty13 @ssavanessa22 @awritingtree @sweetandsunny @rainsong01 @kuolonsyoja @taralewiz @bluelittleblackgirl @asexual-booknerd @the-wolfie

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid series

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morganaspendragonss · 4 years ago

Text

white noise, what an awful sound

“Their unit is not on the grid. It’s like they have disappeared.”

ao3 | 3.3k | 2.08 speculation

It’s more than an hour after TK’s shift was supposed to be up, and he still hasn’t come home.

Carlos doesn’t want to worry; Owen told him that medical caught a call right at the end of shift, so he knows that TK will be pulling overtime. It’s actually worked in their favour a little, because they’ve been able to set everything up for TK’s party in the time they’ve been waiting. But, from what Owen said, it was only supposed to be a simple call, and whilst Carlos knows as well as anyone that the simplest calls can often turn out to be the most complicated, they really should have been done by now.

He sends off a couple of texts, telling himself that TK is just busy and will reply when he can, even though his instincts are screaming at him that something is wrong. By the time they hit the two hour mark, everyone seems to be getting concerned - which, in a house full of first responders, is not something to be taken lightly.

Carlos crosses over to Owen. “Have you heard from TK?” he asks, trying desperately to keep his voice as low and steady as possible.

Owen shakes his head, flashing Carlos a smile which doesn’t reach his eyes. “They’re just running a little over,” he says, and Carlos isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“But what if it’s not?”

“We can’t think like that, Carlos,” Owen says, not unkindly. “He’s probably just in the shower.”

“He would have texted,” Carlos persists. “You know he would have, Owen. Something’s wrong.”

Owen grimaces, glancing around the room of people, who have started to take notice of their conversation. He sighs. “Try calling him,” he tells Carlos. Then, turning to the room, “Can anyone try and get a hold of Nancy or Tommy?”

“Already did, Cap,” Marjan says. “Nancy’s not picking up.”

“Tommy neither,” Judd adds, and Carlos’s heart plummets as the sound of TK’s voicemail confirms that he, too, is still unaccounted for.

“This isn’t right,” he says, allowing a little desperation to bleed into his tone. He can feel it in his bones; TK wouldn’t leave them hanging like this, especially not on a day like today. Carlos has no idea what could have happened to make all three paramedics drop off the grid, but he knows it’s not just lack of cell service or traffic.

Owen closes his eyes and hangs his head, apparently coming to the same conclusions. “Alright then.” He pulls out his phone, and Carlos frowns.

“Who are you calling?”

Owen sends him a wry look, showing him the three oh-so-familiar numbers he’s dialled. “Desperate times, right?”

Carlos manages a nod, but there’s a lump in his throat at the thought of these being such desperate times that they need 9-1-1. Logically, he knows it’s the right step, but he guesses he still has that little flame of hope left in him - hope he doesn’t want crushed by the confirmation they’re about to receive. Owen places the phone on speaker, and Carlos watches it nervously, waiting for a dispatcher to pick up.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” It’s Grace, and Carlos could cry with relief. If anyone can help them find TK, it’s Grace Ryder.

“Grace,” Owen starts, “it’s Owen.”

“Captain Strand? Is everything alright?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that.” Owen takes a steadying breath, looking once more around their friends, before continuing. “EMS 126 were sent out on a call at the end of our shift, two hours ago. There’s been no word from them since, and we’re worried something’s happened to them. Could you tell us anything about where they were sent and why?”

There’s a brief pause on the other end before Grace speaks again, hesitant and slow. “Captain Strand, that’s not information I’m sure I should be giving out to civilians.”

“I’m not a civilian,” Owen argues. “I may not be on shift, but I’m always Captain of that firehouse. Please, Grace. They’re our family.”

Grace sucks in a sharp breath, then the sound of typing comes through the speaker. Carlos allows himself a single moment of relief before the anxiety takes over again as Grace speaks.

“EMS 126 were dispatched to a pregnant woman in distress,” she reports. “They… Oh.”

Carlos exchanges an alarmed look with Owen, his panic spiking at Grace’s words.

“Oh?” Owen asks, not even trying to hide the worry in his voice anymore.

“Captain Strand, their unit is not on the grid. It’s like they have disappeared.”

If Grace says anything else after that, Carlos doesn’t catch it. A ringing erupts in his ears and he staggers, all the breath sucked out of him. TK’s missing. Not running late, not on his way; missing. Something happened to him and his team between leaving the firehouse and now, and they’ve all just been sitting here, doing nothing, for two hours. He should have spoken up earlier, when he first got his bad feeling - maybe that wouldn’t have prevented this, but they could be on their way to finding him right now.

And Carlos knows better than anyone here how crucial every second is in a missing persons case.

When he comes back to himself, a hand - Paul’s - is resting on his shoulder, and Owen and Gwyn are locked in an argument, the call with Grace clearly over.

“What’s going on?” he asks, turning to Paul.

Paul shoots him a sympathetic grimace, squeezing his shoulder. “Cap got the address of their last call,” he answers. “He’s insisting on going, but he won’t let anyone else go with him. Gwyn disagrees.”

Carlos stares at Owen, finding himself firmly in agreement with Gwyn, though likely for different reasons. In his mind, it’s a non-issue; he’s going to search for TK, and there’s no-one who can stop him - certainly not Owen Strand.

He strides over to them, not caring about interrupting their quarrel. TK’s life is on the line, after all. “I’m going with you,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“Son -”

“You can’t stop me, Owen.” He levels him with a hard stare. “Besides, I’m a cop, and you need back up. I’m going.”

Owen watches him for a long moment, then sighs, nodding reluctantly. “Alright,” he says, clapping Carlos once on the shoulder. “Let’s go find them.”

Carlos jumps out of Owen’s truck before it’s even stopped moving, flicking on his flashlight as he strides through the garage, praying that he’ll round the corner and find them all in one piece. Behind him, Owen is yelling out for them, the only reply he gets the sound of his own voice echoed back. It sends Carlos’s heart plummeting into his shoes, even as it only confirms what he’s known for a while - they’re not finding TK here.

All they do find is a brown van, all its doors open, and a pile of bloodied rags lying next to it. Carlos refuses to think about whose blood it could be; if he does, he thinks he’ll lose it, and that’s the last thing anyone needs right now, himself included.

“Where would they go?” he asks, turning to Owen. They hadn’t seen the ambulance on the way in, so they must have left in it at some point - or someone had.

Owen shakes his head, a trembling hand running through his hair. “I don’t - I don’t know,” he says, sounding more lost than Carlos has ever heard him. It’s a jarring sight; Owen is usually so put together, so unruffled in the face of emergency, and his appearance now cuts a striking contrast. Carlos understands - much as TK has complained about his parents in the past months, it’s clear they love him, even if they might not be the best at showing it.

Carlos is sure he looks similarly distressed; his curls are beginning to escape from his fingers running through them, and his heart is pounding a mile a minute, but he tries to school his expression into something stronger, as much for his own sake as for Owen’s.

“I don’t know what to do, Carlos,” Owen admits, body sagging in defeat.

Carlos hesitates, then pulls out his phone, tapping through to his contacts. “I might,” he says, and Owen looks up at him in surprise. “My dad is a Texas Ranger. He’ll be able to help, I’m sure of it.”

Owen immediately nods, seeming to steel himself up a little. “Do it,” he says. “I’ll call and update the others; I’m sure they’ll want to know.”

He walks away, giving both of them some semblance of privacy to make their respective calls. Carlos pauses for a brief second, glancing down once more at the pile of bloody rags, his mind flashing back to four years ago, the last time someone he loved went missing. He knows - he knows the situations are nothing alike, that Iris’s and TK’s disappearances are worlds apart. But the grief crawling up his throat and clutching at his heart can’t help but make comparisons, warning him that he’s going to lose someone else.

Carlos swallows roughly and shakes his head, dialling his dad’s number before he can start spiralling. Now is not the time to fall apart; he has to be strong.

His dad picks up on the second ring. “Carlos? ¿Qué pasa?”

“Dad,” Carlos answers, surprising himself with how steady his voice is. “I need your help.”

They’re on their third dead end of the day, and Carlos can feel his grip on control slipping.

His dad had tried to get him to leave when he’d arrived at the garage. “You’re off duty; you shouldn’t be here, mijo,” he’d said, attempting to steer Carlos towards Owen’s truck. “Let us handle this now.”

“No,” Carlos had insisted, shaking his dad’s hands off him. “I have to be here. One of the missing paramedics - it’s TK, Dad.”

It had taken a few moments for the penny to drop, his father’s frown growing once it did. “Your friend from the market? I thought he was a firefighter.”

“He switched fields.” Carlos had drawn himself up, staring his dad down. “I’m not going anywhere until I find him.”

Something had flickered across his dad’s face then, something Carlos hadn’t understood. Whatever it was, his expression had quickly cleared, and he’d lain a comforting hand on Carlos’s shoulder.

“Alright, mijo,” he’d said. “You can stay.”

Now, Carlos can feel his dad’s eyes on him as he stares blankly at the building they’d been so sure they’d find TK, Nancy, and Tommy in. It had been empty, because of course it had, and Carlos is starting to wonder if they’re ever going to find them.

They’re supposed to be celebrating right now. TK hadn’t wanted anything special, but Carlos knows he’d secretly been looking forward to tonight, his one year anniversary of sobriety a source of pride for them both. They should be celebrating it; instead, TK could be injured or worse, and Carlos feels like he’s going out of his mind.

(They’d found the ambulance an hour ago, abandoned on the side of the road. There had been blood staining the inside of that, too, and Carlos had had to swallow back bile at the sight.)

His dad comes to stand at his elbow, a hand on Carlos’s back. “So,” he starts, gently, “this TK boy?”

Carlos closes his eyes, desperately wishing for his dad to drop it. He knows what’s coming next, and he knows there’s no avoiding it this time. He doesn’t have the strength to lie.

“Dad -”

“Who is he, Carlos?” His dad’s voice is careful and measured, lacking any hint of judgement, but Carlos still tenses, not fully prepared for the fallout of this conversation.

He avoids his dad’s eyes as he answers, keeping his gaze fixed on the space in front of him. “He’s my boyfriend,” he says. “We’ve been dating for just over six months, and I - I really love him, Dad.”

The last admission is said quietly, but Carlos feels like he’s shouted it, such is the silence that follows his words. His hands start to shake at his sides and a sick feeling begins churning in his gut, but, still, he doesn’t look over.

“Six months…” his dad eventually says, voice strained. “Which means you were together when we met you at the market. Why did you lie?”

A flash of white-hot anger surges through him, tears burning the back of his eyes as he rounds on his dad. “I could hardly tell you the truth!” he cries. “You’ve made it clear you’d rather not hear about my sexuality. I was trying to protect us!”

A sob crawls up his throat, but Carlos pushes it back, determined not to break down in front of his dad’s entire team. His dad’s face is stricken, a surprising emotion glinting in his eyes.

“Oh, Carlos -” he starts, but he’s cut off by one of the Rangers shouting for them. He throws Carlos a look that lets him know they’re not done with this conversation yet, before they both run over to the Ranger, Carlos arriving slightly ahead of his dad.

“We’ve found them,” the Ranger says without preamble.

Carlos stares, the words sending a spark of hope through his chest, but he refuses to give in to it just yet. “How sure are you?” he demands. He knows it’s not his place to ask these questions - he’s barely allowed here as it is - but he doesn’t think he could take one more false lead, one more dead end. The Ranger, to his credit, only momentarily shows his surprise, quickly schooling his expression back into one of firm neutrality. He nods, once.

“Positive.”

And, for the first time since they’d heard the news, Carlos dares to hope.

He’ll never get used to this.

The heart monitor beeping by his side, the smell of bleach, the hardness of the chairs. It’s not something he should really have to get used to, but, with a family full of first responders, hospitals are a fact of Carlos’s life. Especially with a boyfriend like TK, who seems to insist on gravitating towards danger even when it’s no longer his job.

“How do we keep ending up like this, huh?” he whispers, gently running a hand through TK’s hair.

TK’s asleep, having first woken up around an hour ago. Hopefully, he’ll be discharged later, if all his tests come back okay - which, thankfully they should.

Carlos’s eyes drift to the bandage around TK’s head, the wrappings around his ribs, the scratchy sheets which Carlos knows covers extensive bruising. They’ve been lucky, he knows this, but he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forget the sight that greeted him when they burst into that restaurant. Tommy and Nancy were standing by the table, next to an unmoving body, both shaken but unhurt. TK had clearly borne the brunt of the attack, and Carlos hadn’t needed to stop to wonder why; his boyfriend’s too much of a damn hero for his own good sometimes.

Apparently, TK had tried to pull the fire alarm, but had been caught before he could, receiving a blow to the head for his efforts. They’d also broken his nose and several ribs, and his body is littered in marks from the kidnapper’s boots. Carlos’s heart had nearly stopped when he’d first seen TK, cable-tied to a pole and barely conscious, but now he can only thank god that it isn’t worse.

“Carlos.”

Carlos stiffens as he hears his dad’s voice behind him, dreading the conversation they’re about to have. He tightens his grip on TK’s hand, not yet brave enough to look away from him.

“Hi, Dad,” he says, voice hollow. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

“Yo también, hijo.” His dad heaves a sigh, footsteps coming closer until he’s at Carlos’s side, easing himself into a second chair. “You know we love you, don’t you?”

Carlos winces. “I know. I’m sorry I yelled at you like that earlier, I was just -”

“No, mijo,” his dad interrupts. Carlos looks up at him sharply, confused by the weariness in his dad’s tone, and he’s taken aback by the sorrow in his eyes. He’s not sure he’s ever seen him cry before, and Carlos doesn’t know what to make of it. “It is me who should be apologising.”

“Dad -”

His dad holds a hand up, cutting Carlos off. “Your mother and I… We have only ever wanted what was best for you,” he says. “When you came out to us - Carlos, I was so proud. I was shocked, yes, but I could see how hard that must have been for you, and I thought you were so brave. We thought that if we carried on as normal, then you wouldn’t feel like anything had changed. Because, to us, it hadn’t. You were still the beautiful son we had always known and loved, and being gay wasn’t going to change that.

“We thought that you would be more comfortable with it like this, but I see now that we made a mistake. I’m so sorry that we made you feel like you couldn’t talk to us about these things. I’d like to change that, if you’re willing.”

Carlos blinks, tears spilling down his cheeks. “You’re really okay with it?” he croaks. “You and mami?”

“Of course we are.” His dad chuckles, rubbing Carlos’s shoulder. “You know what your mother’s like; she’ll be fawning over him as soon as she finds out.”

Carlos manages a laugh, though there’s still a little lingering dread in his stomach at the thought of having to tell his mom. He’ll have to do it, and soon, but he can’t get rid of a decade of uncertainty and fear so easily. At least, this time, he’ll have his dad and his boyfriend by his side.

A groan from the bed pulls his attention, and he looks over to see TK’s eyes blinking open. They immediately seek out Carlos, a frown creasing his brows.

“You’ve been crying,” TK murmurs, reaching a hand up to Carlos’s face, only to freeze before it gets there. TK’s eyes widen, frantically darting between Carlos and his dad. “Uh, Mr Reyes, sir. Carlos said that you helped to find us; thank you.”

“Hey.” Carlos catches TK’s hand, still hovering in mid-air, and smiles at him. “It’s okay, Ty. He knows.”

TK’s lips part in shock. “You told him?” he whispers.

“Kind of had to,” Carlos replies, laughing a little. “I could hardly say I was having a meltdown over a friend, now, could I?”

TK’s face clouds with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Carlos,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“Did you ask to get kidnapped?” Carlos asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but -”

“Then you have nothing to apologise for.” He presses a gentle kiss to the inside of TK’s wrist, never breaking their gaze. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

TK smiles, visibly relaxing. He squeezes Carlos’s hand, then brings their joined hands to his lips, lingering for a long moment. Carlos loses himself in it, his heart aching at the thought that he could have lost all of this today. But TK is here, and he’s going to be okay, and that’s all that matters right now.

A throat clears behind them, and Carlos jumps, turning to look guiltily at his dad.

“I see I’m no longer wanted here,” he comments wryly. Carlos flushes, but his dad just laughs and pats his shoulder as he stands. “I’ll see you soon, Carlos.”

“Thank you again, Mr Reyes,” TK calls.

Carlos’s dad grins at him. “You take care of my boy, TK.”

TK’s gaze flicks over to Carlos, his eyes full of so much love that it shocks him. “With my life, sir.”

It’s a promise that goes both ways and, as he leans over to kiss his boyfriend, Carlos knows that he’d do anything to keep it.

145 notes · View notes

unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

Text

Marinette’s Week Off

This is a one-shot. Sorry, I kind of forgot Adrien.

One week. Just one week. Marinette took one week off a year. One week where she didn’t work herself to death as Marinette. Or nearly get herself killed as Ladybug. One week where she didn’t do any favors, any designs, didn’t work in the bakery, didn’t save anyone. A week to relax. A week to meditate. A week to destress and just take care of herself. Just one week every year. To prepare for it she sent reminders to all her friends and family. She posted a flyer on the class bulletin board. Marinette finished all her commission and school work in advance.

She made Fu aware that Ladybug wouldn’t be active, told Chat Noir that Queen Bee would be his partner while she was gone. Marinette always made sure everyone was prepared for her absence. And made it clear that she would be unavailable. No matter what. She didn’t care if the world was ending.

However, this year was different than the ones that came before. For starters, Marinette now only had two or three good friends in class, and one or two mediocre ones. She only warned those three people. While she still posted her usual flyer, she had done it knowing it would be disregarded.

Marinette was no longer class president either; she no longer had to plan class trips, parties, or dances. Or anything of the sort. When she was class president, Marinette always made sure to plan her week off around the class’s busiest time of the year. That year, she didn’t have to so she didn’t. In fact, she planned her week off during the biggest dance of year, the class musical, the class’s big fundraiser. It was usually her most stressful week of the year.

Not this time.

On the Friday before her week off, Marinette reminded Bustier of her absence for the next week, and then walked out of class with a relieved smile on her face. She was almost there. Just two more days. She used her weekend to finish up any last minutes details of her vacations; confirm her reservation; spend most of the time with her parents.

And on the stroke of midnight that turned Sunday to Monday, Marinette got her bags, kissed her parents goodbye and was gone in her Uber. She knew how this week worked. By six am, the ‘emergency’ calls would start; everyone screaming fire. However, she wouldn’t be there to put them out, metaphorical fires or real ones.

Not today, Satan, Marinette thought.

Marinette got to the airport, slept on the plane ride, arrived at her luxury beach resort, a little after sunrise. She had saved up her money and did extra commissions all year to pay for it. It was beautiful. However, there was just one problem…

“Marinette, love!” Jagged called, somehow looking more awake in the wee hours of the morning than he did at 3 in the afternoon. Penny, however, looked half-asleep. Even Fangs slept on the luggage being moved by a rather fearful looking bellhop.

Marinette’s parents couldn’t get time off the bakery; it was their busiest time too. Her grandma was in Peru. Mariette needed an adult with her at the resort. Jagged happened to overhear her mother asking if she found a chaperone yet. It wasn’t like Marinette had any other options.

“I have so many Rockin’ plans!” Jagged said. “Scuba diving! Sky diving. Swimming with sharks. Parasailing! Bungee jumping!”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at her favorite rockstar and honorary Uncle, “Sleep.” She said.

Jagged waved her off, “We’ll sleep when we’re dead.”

“Sleep,” Marinette hissed darkly.

As amazing as that all sounded it could wait. Marinette was there to relax, not fight a shark. “Not today, Satan,” She whispered when she checked into her room. Leaving Penny to drag away a protesting Jagger to get some sleep as well. She called her parents to let her she had gotten there safely, called to re-confirm her spa reservation for that afternoon and then check her texts.

She had gotten quite a few as expected. Chloe wishing her a good vacation and promising to keep an eye on Chat. Luka sent her funny vacation memes. Nathaniel sent pics or didn’t happen texts; he found the possibility of Marinette all people actually taking a vacation hilarious and improbable. She’d show him though.

Then there were a few texts from her ex-friends. And it seemed like the fires had started…

When class started on Monday, most didn’t realize that Marinette wasn’t there until Bustier reminded Chloe to remind Chloe about the test next week. They all shrugged it off. Glad not to have to deal with the drama Marinette brought to class.

When Alya, the new class president, brought up the dance that Friday, things got a little tense.

“We need volunteers,” The glasses-wearing girl said. “People to decorate and to clean up and all that. We also need to get decorations.”

She received confused looks.

“Isn’t that your job?” Alix asked. “The class president does all that.”

Alya crossed her arms, “No it’s not my job. I organize and plan but I can’t do everything by myself.”

“Marinette did,” Kim shrugged. “It can’t be that hard.”

“Do you wanna do it?” Alya asked him but he quickly shook his head. “Thought so. We don’t have a big budget. So can anyone chip in for decorations and food?”

Mylene frowned, “Marinette made all the decorations and food.” They never had to chip in before. “Maybe she’d do it again.”

There were nods. They may not be friends with the girl anymore but she was still very helpful.

“OH! I need a dress,” Rose brightened up the room with her smile. “Marinette made mine last year. It was so beautiful. I’ll ask her to make another.”

A few of the girls said the same.

“Not gonna happen,” Chloe smirked. “You guys are on your own.”

Alya shot her a glare. “And we’ll be just fine.” She wasn’t happy about asking her ex-bestie for anything, anyway.

They were not fine.

Monday they had all talked a big game about not needing Marinette but by Tuesday, they realized that was a lie.

Because everything was falling apart.

Mylene’s musical was Friday, the day before the dance. More than half the class were either in it or helping with it. That meant Alya had barely any volunteers for the Dance committee. And had been reminded by Bustier about the annual fundraiser they did every year to pay for the class trip. Alya had been class president since the beginning of the year, and had been responsible for planning it. She had forgot all about it.

Alya was confident she managed though. They’d pull in enough money to pay for the entire trip and she’d get to rub it in Marinette’s face that no one needed. Alya hoped Lila was back in time from her trip with Prince Ali to see it.

In addition, neither she nor Bustier seem to remember that the fundraiser was always biggest because it was the last one of the year. Marinette usually had done several different ones by then.

Mylene was struggling. None of the sets were done. The costumes were terrible. The entire play seemed to be falling apart. They had forgot to only put up flyers promoting the play but they never even made them. She didn’t understand, normally everything would be going as smooth as silk by then. Silk…

“Marinette,” She gasped. Yes, she remembered, Marinette always helped out with the school plays. The Bluenette would fix the costumes. She’d even help out with the flyers and the set. Mylene pulled out her phone and quickly called her ex-friend. It went to voice mail. She frantically sent a dozen texts, all screaming emergency. But she never got a reply.

Marinette laid on the beach, drinking virgin Pina Colada, while talking with a boy she met while surfing and subtly eyeing him. He was a seventeen-year-old, tanned, dark haired Adonis, literally named Adonis. He was ripped in a way Marinette had only every previously seen on guys in magazines or on TV. Marinette was fifteen, (Sixteen in just a few months) had grown remarkably into her looks, and smirked a bit every time she caught Adonis eyeing her back.

“I got to go,” Adonis said. “Work.” He leaned a bit closer to Marinette. “If you wanna drop by, I wouldn’t mind. Maybe we can go for a swim together.”

Marinette flushed with excitement and blushed a lovely pink by the offer, “That sounds amazing! What do you do?”

He grinned a sparkling white smile that lit up his gray eyes, and caused Marinette to let out a dreamy sigh. “I work with my dad. We do underwater scuba tours and explore sea wildlife and dormant underwater volcanos. We just got be careful to avoid sharks.”

Marinette’s fell open, and she just stared at the older boy for a moment, “I’m a little busy today. But can we meet up later,” She squeaked.

They said they goodbyes. And once Adonis was out sight, Marinette’s eyes narrowed, “Not today, Satan.”

An image of the first time saw Adonis suddenly floated to the front of her mind. Adonis coming out of the water, with his surfer board and red swim trucks, running towards dry land.

Marinette took a deep breath to stead herself; fight the urge to go running after Adonis. Because there was no way in hell she was going to deal with a “Dormant” volcano. And she didn’t mess with sharks. Neither did Jagged anymore and he had to learn his lessons the hard way. He was lucky to come back with all his limbs.

By Wednesday, everyone was panicking. Alya refused to give in and attempted to rally her troops; with a divide and conquer plan. Lila had even come back early and graciously offered to take time away from her busy schedule to help. Alya decided they’d work on the play first. Then prepare for the dance, it shouldn’t take that long to decorate anyway, Alya had guess. Then finally they work on the fundraiser. Everything would go perfectly.

…Everything went wrong.

They worked the entire morning on the Mylene’s musical. They tried to work on the costumes. But they had no one who could fix the costumes. Any tailor they went to cost an arm and a leg. Lila’s personal tailor was away helping the Duchess of Manchester with her wedding dress. Max could print flyer but only generic ones. Not the creative ones Marinette had always made. And it wasn’t like they could ask Nathaniel for help without him spitting acid at them. The sets had to be rushed; and ended up poorly painted. Not even close to as good as the ones Marinette had help do the year before and even worse than the ones other classes had done. To make matters worse, the light fixtures they had installed started a small fire.

Mylene had a full blown panic attacked that caused one of the strongest Akuma Queen Bee and Chat Noir had ever faced.

The musical had taken up most of the day. So Alya and the class spent the rest of it and most of the night trying to prepare for the dance. The problem was their budget was small. Apparently it had always been that small which had shocked Alya and the others as they remembered the amazing dances Marinette had always thrown. The only decorations came from the local party story and were as cheap as possible. But they hadn’t gotten nearly enough when they got to gym and fully realize the size of it. But most of their budget was already shot on what they did get.

While for the last few years, Marinette’s had supplied most of the food for the dances from the bakery. It was clear to Alya that, it wouldn’t be happening. Most of the class had been banned from the shop. Alya ended up having to buy dollar store chips and drinks; and ended up with a cliché fruit punch bowl.

Everyone got in trouble with their parents for being out so late. Even if they had been at school. All the kids were exhausted and overly stressed. When Alya got home that night, she got a text from Nino that caused her to burst into tears. His DJ gear had fried. They had no music for the dance.

Not to mention Alya hadn’t even thought about the fundraiser. What was she going to do? What could she do?

Alya cried herself to sleep. Knowing that in the morning she’d have to swallow her pride and call in the big guns. She needed Marinette. They all did.

Marinette was having the time of her life. She laughed as let Heinrich and Mila twirl her around the dance floor. She was at a local teen club, out late, and truly partying for the first time in her life. He was a sixteen-year-old, six foot tall, blond, gorgeous fut-baller, with cheekbones that could cut glass. He had come to the city with his team for a charity match all the way from Germany. Mila was a beautiful redhead from Ireland, with startling blue eyes and a face dusted with freckles. She was a futballer too and was the most competitive person Marinette had ever met.

Marinette had met the futball players, the girls’ team and the boys’ team at the beach. When the girls realized they only had five plays to the boys’ six and needed another girl. They saw Marinette alone and invited her to play. They all had a blast. Afterwards, they invited her to the club that night.

Marinette had danced with everyone. However, somehow she had found herself smashed between Heinrich and Mila, more often than anyone else.

The three laughed their way off the dance floor when Tonya, a local girl with green hair, and a futballer herself, had waved them over.

“We’re going to Fairy Ridge,” Tonya shouted over the music.

Marinette’s interest was piqued. “Fairy Ridge?”

Tonya answered happily, “It’s beautiful at night. An underground cave, near the ocean. It has this opening at the top and you can see all stars. It has a bunch of colorful crystals that glow in the moonlight, and fill up the cave.”

“Sweet,” Mila said, her arm still around Marinette. “Sounds like a party, mate.”

Everyone agreed quickly. But Marinette wasn’t too sure. It was really late to the point where Jagged would be proud when she got back. Penny had made Marinette promise to avoid doing anything that would make Jagged proud; apart from the Bluenette’s usual awesomeness of course.

“You are coming, yes, Marinette?” Heinrich gave her his most charming smile that made Marinette go weak in the knees.

“Marinette, the ridge is so cool,” Tonya exclaimed, a bright smile on her face. “It’s supposed to be magic. They say fairies used to really live there. It’s cursed. They say all who enter are given a test of worth. Those who pass are stolen away to live under fae rule forever more as a fairy.”

Marinette just looked at her. She thought of Tikki, the small magical god of creation, who was enjoying her vacation in the luxury sweet as well. When Marinette left her, she had been in a bowl of cookies finally getting caught up on Game of Thrones. A god who’s power turned Marinette into a magical superhero. Magical was real. And if A kwami was real, fairies could be too.

The bluenette pursed her lips, and feigned a look of disappoint, “Sorry, guys. It’s so late. I’m already super passed my curfew. You guys go. We’ll hang tomorrow, okay?”

The other teens expressed their disappointment, though Mila and Heinrich tried to convince her a bit more as they left the club. Jagger’s personal driver already waited for her.

Once they had parted ways, Marinette got into the car and drove off. She waved brightly to the backs of the beautiful teens, “Not today, Satan.”

Thursday, the entire class was freaking out. They had all gotten there early, desperate to try to fix the mess they were in. Even Alya could admit she needed some serious help. They all waited for Marinette to show up. Surely, it had to be back by now, right? They needed her!

When the school bell rang starting class, and once again, Marinette didn’t appear. Alya nearly screamed. “Where is she?” She asked. “Marinette can’t miss this much school!”

“She’s not replying to my texts,” Mylene said, her eyes frantic with worry. Her boyfriend Ivan tried to calm her down.

“She never got back to me either,” Rose frowned. “Normally I’d get a bunch of questions asking about the style of wanted for my dress by now.”

Alya stomped her foot. “Marinette hasn’t answered a single of calls. What part of S.O.S doesn’t she understand? The dance is falling apart. I have no idea what to do about the fundraiser on Sunday. We need her. I swear if that girl lost her phone again…”

“You’ll do what?” Surprising it was Nathanial who asked this. There was silence at his questions. “That’s what I thought. You’ll do nothing. One, because you have no right to text the girl you disowned as a friend and ridiculed for the last year for help. Two, you couldn’t take Marinette in a fight with everyone in this class helping you. And three, you’re the one who turned down her offers to help all year; citing that you didn’t need her. You don’t get to beg for help at the last minute, and be surprised that she can’t do it.” The speech had turned into an angry rant by the end as the once quiet redhead glared at them with poorly concealed disgust.

Chloe knew bringing Nathanial into their fold had been a smart idea. She sent a vicious smile to the class, “Marinette’s on vacation. She won’t be back until Monday.” Chloe relaxed in her seat. “For her ex-friends; it’s her one week. You should know what that means”

There were gasps. Alya’s face drained of color. They all knew what that meant. Marinette was gone in the wind, and she wouldn’t come back or answer her phone even if fire rained from the sky as furbys finally revealed the truth of their evilness and declared themselves the new rules of earth.

They were on their own.

Lila watched with a frown as her classmates fell apart. She didn’t think this would happened when she got Alya to replace Marinette as class president. Who knew the idiots could survive without the girl?

“No dresses,” Rose realized. All the girls in class looked ready to cry. Marinette always made their dresses, always. What were they going to do? They never saved up any money for a dress because they never had to before.

Mylene started crying, “The play is ruined.” She sobbed. “I worked so hard on it.”

“What about the fundraiser?” Alix asked. “So much for going to New York or anywhere! Our class trip is ruined!”

Bustier looked at a loss of what to do as her student began to panic. “Now everyone calm down. Breath.” She said calmly. “It. Will. Be. Fine.”

Alya paced around the class, her hair wild, her eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep. “Ok, we can do this! I can do this!” She hissed. “I don’t need Marinette. I’ve never needed Marinette!” She looked around at the class. “None of us do. Anything she can do, we can do better, right?” Some looked unsure but Alya manage to rally everyone. “We can get our own dresses!” She yelled. “We can decorate our own dance. We fix the school play. And we will do the fund raiser. Without her, who need that bully anyway?”

Nathaniel and Chloe shared a look and rolled their eyes. This would be good.

The next few days would go down in Bustier’s class history as the worst three days of the students’ lives. And the most embarrassing.

Barely anyone showed up for Mylene’s musical. None of the costumes were finished. The sets were a disaster. The actors were so frazzled, they couldn’t remember their lines. Three people walked out. One of them was Kim’s grandmother. Kim who had been one of the lead actors.

On the day of Mylene’s play, Marinette woke up from her second nap of day to Penny banging on her door. When the bluenette opened it, the woman screamed, “Get ready!”

“What?” Marinette yawned, still half-asleep.

“Get. Ready. Now,” Excitement shown in the older woman eyes. She bounced around the room, opened Marinette’s closet and started throwing out clothes. “Hurry!”

“Why?” It was her vacation. Marinette didn’t want to rush. Or move.

“Zac Efron,” Penny squealed. That got Marinette’s attention and it was all Marinette need to shoot to attention and start scrambling to get ready. “Tom Holland, and Zendaya are filming a movie on an island close by. Jagged got us passed to go set.”

As Marinette got dressed she asked, “What’s the movie about?”

Penny gave a dreamy sigh, “Pirates and adventures. It’s a musical. Zendaya plays a kickass pirate who takes control of her father’s ship after he dies to rescue her genius half-brother, played by Tom Holland, who managed to figure out the location of the greatest treasure in all of history, from the evil Pirate King, played by Zac Efron.”

“Now that’s a musical I’d watch,” Marinette finished her make up in the mirror.

“And get this!” Penny paused for dramatic effect. “Harry Styles is the love interest. He supposed to be on set sometime this week.”

Marinette screamed.

They took a helicopter to the island. It was the best day of her life. She got to meet the goddess that was Zendaya, Her real life prince charming Tom Holland, and the man of her dreams Zac Efron. They were nice. They were sweet. They took so many pictures and videos with her.

When Jagged mentioned Marinette designed most of his wardrobe. Marinette even got to show off her sketch book she had brought when the cast was too busy and it got boring. Zendaya commissioned a dress. She nearly right there.

Then the director got a call, “Okay Harry’s arrived. He’s waiting at the cave. Time to shoot the act 5, scene 1.”

They all moved to leave.

“Cave?” Marinette found herself asking.

Penny nodded, “Its historically accurate. The real life Captain Wolfblood, the guy who’s treasure everyone wants, supposedly buried his there. Pirates fought and died there all the time trying to find it. Supposed to be cursed. So whoever died was bound there for eternity; their ghosts protect the treasure. Killing all who enter their domain.”

Marinette found herself stopping in her tracks, “Pirate Ghosts.” She stated. “Cursed treasure.”

“Harry Styles…” Penny sang, causing Jagged to give her a sour look.

Harry Styles… For the first time that vacation Marinette was tempted to go. Tempted to risk pirates’ curses and murderous ghosts just to see the man who had caused ten-year-old Marinette to write Mrs. Harry Styles in her diary for a month.

“I actually have to facetime my parents,” Marinette frowned. “Reception terrible out here.”

After promising to meet them for dinner, Marinette booked it off the island. As it faded from sight, and all her wishes of being the future Mrs. Harry Styles burned, she whispered, “You stepped of your game. I’m impressed.” She glared at the window. “But Not today, Satan.”

The dance was a catastrophe. Everyone in class could admit to that. All the girls wore their dresses from the year before. For the first time, there was no live performance. Just Nino’s play music from his phone. Until it died midsong. They forgot to get helium for the balloons, so they had to blow them up themselves. The chips were stale. The punch tasted like rotten bananas. No one alerted the proper staff regarding the dance so no one warned the janitor not to wax the gym floor the night before. Five kids hurt themselves. Alya forgot to get chaperones. And found Damocles and Mendeleiev shut down the entire dance before it even got passed its first hour.

The night of the dance would go down as the best night of Marinette’s life. The director from the day before had liked Marinette so much that gave her the role of Lunaris, mermaid princess, originally played by an actress who had backed out of the role at the last second. Like literally right before they were supposed to shoot her scenes. It was a small role; Marinette didn’t have many lines and only two songs to herself (and fillers song lines throughout the movie). Plus she died. (The entire part took five days to film, and Marinette ended up staying on her vacation an additional two days. Her parents instantly approved; wanting their daughter away from the drama of her ex-friends. However, Marinette would be called in for additional reshoots and scenes, a month later. Then more after that as they would expand her role) She spent the entire time in a mermaid costume. Up until the last act of the movie.

However, her character was in love with Harry Styles’ character, a mermaid prince who became human for chance to win the love of Zendaya’s character. Her character more or less had been the prince’s childhood best friend who never admitted to being in love with him until it was too late. She had spent the entire movie supporting him to win the main character’s heart. Her first song was sang as she helped him escape the underwater kingdom to go to his true love while she hid her own; choosing to put him before herself. The next day it was revealed that they were supposed to have been betrothed and united their kingdoms. Her second song happened after she chose to fight on land to save her friend and taking a killing blow for him; she died singing to the prince about not waiting to tell someone you love until its’ too late; especially if the love’s worth dying for. Or walking on land for.

After shooting her scenes for the day; she was invited by the cast to go meet Chris Heimsworth who was vacationing at a nearby island resort. They were going to go budging jumping of the highest mountain on the Island, near shark infested waters. Again Marinette only had one thing to say to that, “Not today, Satan.” She was not going to fight a shark. Not that week. No matter how much she loved Thor. (She’d later find out Tom Hiddleston was there and cry.)

The fundraiser had cost more than it raised. That was all anyone was willing to say on the subject. Particularly Alya who was missing her eyebrows.

The day of the fundraiser, the Day Marinette was supposed to return home, was bliss. At the end of it, Marinette found herself watching the sunset with Jagged and Penny.

“We should visit mermaid isle,” Penny suggested. “I heard it’s magical. There’s a spot that grants wishes… At a price.”

Marinette didn’t bother to ask for anymore. She just smiled, “Not today, Satan.”

The next morning, the Monday Marinette should have already been back home, instead she was getting ready to shoot some more scene for the movie. Then she got a call.

“Hey Marinette!” Kimi, the director, said. “We were hoping you could come in early today. We have to shoot your death scene.”

“Oh! Sweet! Where?”

“Shark cove. It will be perfect,” Kimi said cheerfully. “This time before your last breath, Harry’s going to kiss you goodbye. So eat a mint.”

Marinette mind froze. Kiss… Harry? “Shark cove?”

“Yeah, we’ll have to be careful not to attract any, you know?” Kimi sighed. “It’ll be a bit dangerous. You okay with that?”

The bluenette wanted to scream no way. But it was a new week. “I’m there,” She said firmly. For a kiss from Harry Styles, she’d do anything.

Vacation time was over. Marinette was going to fight a shark.

When Marinette returned to school on Wednesday, it was to the frustrated faces of her classmates. None of them talked to her. Just glared coldly. Though Alya did give her a sarcastic, welcome back.

Marinette just shrugged and went to sit at her desk next to Chloe and Nathaniel, who were both grinning.

“How was it?” Marinette asked them.

Nathaniel smirked, “Epic! Three fires. Two poisonings. A kid broke his leg. Four more ended up in the emergency room.”

“The play was a disaster,” Chloe added. “The dance was shut down after an hour. The fire department came to the so called fund raiser. You were gone for little more than a week and these morons nearly got themselves killed like four times.”

“We got in on video!” Nathaniel laughed.

Marinette laughed.

She looked at the stressed and embarrassed students of Bustier’s class, even the teacher looked worse for wear.

Marinette smirked.

Somebody obviously needed a vacation. Or rather… Everybody.

#ml salt #ml fic #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better

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itsmeevie01 · 4 years ago

Text

A Moment in Time-Ch 5

I'm back! lots of things to come, and a slightly longer, Tim centered, chapter! and...the build-up to the Timari subplot!

Yay!

I know that is what everyone is actually here for lol.

Tim was tired of looking for Jason.

He wasn’t at any of his normal safe houses, and none of his usual contacts had heard from him in the last few weeks. Three weeks after the ridiculous scandal had broken, the press had all but forgotten Tim for the time being. As he ducked through alleyways, the teen couldn’t help but be thankful as he climbed back on his bike and sped back towards Wayne Manor.

He was done waiting for his brother to show up. There was something sketchy going on in their city, and if Jason wasn’t going to show up, then it was no longer his concern.

When he got home, Tim found Bruce waiting for him in the study looking over the side gardens. The older C.E.O.’s face was grim.

When Tim approached the desk, Bruce handed him a stack of papers. As Tim started to page through them, he had a flashback to when Jared Stone had brought the pile of tabloids.

As he flipped through the new stack, Tim realized that it was Jason’s credit card statement. And-was that…? “did he buy a ticket for Paris? Why didn’t we get notified about his passport passing through customs? Why is Jason in France of all places?” when he looks back at his adoptive father, the man’s face was grim.

“I don’t know, Tim. But we sure as hell are going to find out. Go to his apartment. I know you have a key. We need to see if he left anything out from before he left.” Bruce paused before adding, “he’s been gone for two weeks. There has to be a reason.” Tim nodded as he moved to stride from the room before Alfred spoke, shocking both Bruce and Tim.

“Maser Bruce, did you by chance call Master Jason? Last I remember, his cell phone was still working.” The father and son froze, before turning to the family Butler, slack-jawed.

“We really are stupid.”

Damian didn’t see anything wrong with Todd being gone. It was quieter around the Manor and it meant that the 13-year-old was allowed to patrol through Crime Alley by himself, something none of his predecessors had been able to do at his age.

As the young teen flew over the city, his mind raced. He found this the most relaxing part of his time with his father.

At the manor, there was always something going on and there was always someone looking over his shoulder. Here, as he went rooftop to rooftop, arching over this city, the boy was able to finally find some peace.

A sound over his earpiece broke Robin from his quiet elation. “Robin, how are you doing? Is everything clear?” oracle’s voice filtered through, bringing him to relax. Oracle he could handle.

“it’s a regular night, Oracle. A few of the regulars. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“perfect. Finish up and head back, B wants you back before 2 because you have school tomorrow.”

The annoyed “Tch” that came down the line made the redhead laugh from where she sat at the computer.

Tim had texted Jason before he had left for patrol. When he got back, there was a response waiting for him.

Jason: in Paris. I’ll be back soonish

Tim: Jay, what’s soonish?

Tim: there’s a situation we need your help with.

Jason: kid, I'll be back when I can.

Jason: if B cares, tell him Gina kidnapped me. I’m staying with her right now.

Jason: otherwise, just wait. It's personal business.

Tim: Jay, we are your family. Doesn’t that make it our business too?

Jason: in this case, no. fuck off, replacement

Tim: See you when you get back Jay

The teen sighed. It was just like Jason to try and handle everything himself. This time, Tim couldn’t play interference either, he was stuck across an ocean. He just hoped this Gina person wasn’t as impulsive as his older brother. If she was, they would all be in trouble.

As he made his way to his room, having showered and gotten himself ready for the next day, Tim paused by his desk.

He had taken the time to compile a file on the girl from a few weeks ago but hadn’t read it yet. He knew that if he was to read it, it would be violating her privacy, but he did that every day, so was this any different? To Tim, the only difference was that this girl wasn’t someone to watch or take in. she was just a normal girl with a normal life, who had run into him for a split second.

It wasn’t like he was going to meet her, right?

The teen shook his head and flopped onto his bed. It wasn’t worth it tonight. He could have the moral debate with himself when he was properly rested.

Maybe he should have called in sick. Tim was definitely finding a way to leave early, as he looked at the list of meetings that he had been scheduled for.

Why had he agreed to this again? He could have sworn that he had told his assistant that Wednesday was his day to go home and work on his college classes. Instead, Tim had a feeling that he was going to be at the office late.

On his off night too.

Partway through the day, he noticed an email that he didn’t recognize in his personal inbox. The inbox that he probably shouldn’t have been checking on the company computer but…

After a moment of hesitation, the young C.E.O. had clicked on the new email and blinked at what pulled up.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Mr. Drake,

My name is Marinette Dupain Cheng. I believe that we ran into each other quite literally a month and a half ago, approximately. As I am sure that you have at least seen the fictitious stories floating through the media, I assume that you are aware of the interaction that I am referring to.

Originally, I had no intention of reaching out, but a friend of mine encouraged me to reach out. (had actually was the one to give me your email. Does the name Jason Todd ring a bell?) I do hope that this whole press fiasco hasn’t hindered you too terribly.

Kindest Regards,

Marinette Dupain Cheng

Tim blinked once before rereading the short email that the girl had sent. No. no way. She knew Jason? And what did she mean, Jason was the one to encourage her to reach out? Opening up a new draft, Tim hesitated before flicking his wrists to rid himself of tension and trying his reply.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Miss Dupain Cheng,

I was surprised to receive your email, but it seems that it came at a fortunate time. Yes, I do know Jason Todd. I know him quite well, actually. He and I were adopted by the same man, Bruce Wayne. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you meet my brother?

I must apologize, for the whole scandal from last month. I know that neither of us were directly responsible, but I do feel bad for any trouble it may have caused you. If it is not too much of an intrusion, I might also ask, how were you able to respond so quickly? The only reason I knew about the incident was Bruce’s old friend Jared. The man came into my office in a fit about the nerve of the photographer.

(if you ever meet the man, you will understand what I mean when I say that he never does things halfway. He had picked up a copy of every magazine or tabloid that ran a story about it. When he came in, he actually brought his crocodile as well. Fang scared the lobby staff more than anything has for the past bit, I believe.)

I hope this finds you well,

Timothy Drake Wayne

After reading through his email one more time to make sure it sounded professional enough, Tim hit the send button and let out a deep breath that he didn’t know he had been holding. He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling that this was the start of something important.

Suddenly, Tim was very glad he hadn’t read the girl’s file.

As he was preparing to head to yet another meeting later that afternoon, Tim glanced at his personal email again. To his surprise, the teen was met with another email from the French girl.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Mr. Drake (or is it Drake Wayne?)

Jason was sitting next to me when I opened your last email. Imagine my surprise when he panicked. Apparently, he had decided against informing any of his family of his departure. I must say, his reaction was quite entertaining.

Onto your question from your email, Penny Rolling, a good friend of mine, dropped off a box full of the tabloid trash that her husband, Jagged had shipped to her as soon as she got it. After my initial reaction, the two of us got a good laugh out of the whole situation. Especially when we heard that Jagged tried to bring Fang into your office! I guess to you, he would be Jared, but to me, he will always be my Uncle Jagged.

In other news, I thought it would be polite to pass on that Jason will be returning in the next few days. He has been fretting over a family emergency, not that he will tell me what it is but, there is only so much I can do. However, I thought it might be prudent to forewarn you that he will be bringing my grandmother back with him. Nona said it was something to do with one of his ‘side hustles’. Knowing those two, however, makes me think that Jason has gotten himself into something significantly illegal this time.

No need to apologize for something that neither of us could control! You did not ask for the photographer to take that ridiculous photo, nor did you ask for the fiction writers who work for the tabloids to write a piece of the photo. That said, I do feel that it has opened many new avenues. I know that Jason and I reconnected because of the photo, and it has given my lawyers something to focus on while we wait on proceedings for other matters.

Have a good day,

Marinette Dupain Cheng

Jason was coming home sooner than he planned. It seemed like Tim’s text had actually gotten through to his older brother.

With a sigh, he marked the email as important so that he would remember to respond to it before he started on his homework.

The teen C.E.O. snagged his thermos of coffee on the way out the door, he had a meeting to go to.

And...there it is! this week I'm going to try and work out my posting schedule. what did everyone think of the emails?

i know that there are a lot more people in the Wayne/bat family, so I'm going to work them in a little bit at a time. as far as Dick Grayson is concerned, btw he knows about the scandal but not about Jason's sister or that he's not in Gotham.

MasterPost

Tag List

@moonlitceleste @redscarlet95 @ultimatetornshipper @mochegato @liquid-luck-00 @maskedpainter

@trippingovermyfeet @nathleigh @m0chick0furan @susiej1118@t1dwarrior-of-earth

#a moment in time fic #miraculous ladybug #ml x dc #mlb #timari #timinette #sibling!jasonette #Cat!marinette

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idreamtofthereaper · 4 years ago

Text

Lee Jeno As Your Ex (Clarity Oneshot)

NCT 127 // NCT DREAM // WAYV // Clarity Main Masterlist

A series of oneshots for different groups, for each member, wherein instead of them being your boyfriend, how they will be as your ex.

The Breakup

“Hey, you haven’t been answering my calls. Everything alright?” You asked, closing the door of his room as you saw Jeno sitting down at his bed with his phone on his hands.

The week started off normal, though because of your club activities and Jeno’s basketball practices, the both of you could only see each other for a very limited amount of time.

This is nothing new, but few days ago his replies if there’s none, are all cold and rushed. Everytime you would tell him that you want to meet up or even you would see him, he would brush you off.

It was unusual, especially to Jeno whoever since the both of you got together, would spend every free time he has with you. Even if you’re still doing some club activities, you would find him watching you through the classroom window with a smile on his face.

But this time, he has completely shut you off. Not only that, when you asked Jaemin even him has no clue what’s going on. Saying he also noticed how Jeno was distancing himself from everyone.

“How did you get in?” Jeno asked, a little shocked but his expression is cold.

You don’t feel welcome anymore.

His gaze and cold demeanor was something foreign to you. Even at your worst fight, he wasn’t this cold and dismissive towards you. Those times, he would still check up on you and you would catch him still waiting for you at waiting area when your activities got too long.

“Oh, why are you still here? You shouldn’t have waited for me.”

“I didn’t waited for you, I just happen to pass by and you got out the same time as I did.”

“You were sitting down-”

“I was tying my shoelaces.”

You stopped at your tracks, fidgeting a little with you hands. “I- You didn’t lock your door.” You answered timidly, hiking a thumb over your shoulder with a worried expression. “I told you to lock your door, it’s not safe. Especially you’re alone, Jaemin isn’t here right?” You asked, inching a step closer.

Jaemin texted you earlier how he was going to attend a seminar and Jeno would probably be alone. Maybe that’s why the door is unlocked? You thought. No, that was 2 hours ago, Jeno wasn’t even home.

He scoffed at your reply, doing something with his phone before tossing it towards you, the phone landing on the edge of his bed in front of you.

You picked up the thing and saw that it contained a photo. But not just any photo it was a photo of you and Jaemin back in Wednesday, both of you were laughing and was seated pretty close with each other.

You didn’t find anything wrong with it, your eyes traveled to Jeno with a confused look. “I don’t understand.”

“You told me you were meeting your mom.” Jeno said, voice cold and low.

You scoffed yourself, finding the entire ordeal ridiculous. His phone still on your hands as he stood up, your eyes watching as he walked towards you, putting his weight on his table behind him as he watched you. “Why did you lie?”

“I didn’t lie! I was meeting with my mom! She was late and Jaemin passed by and he saw me, he asked something about Physics. He was only there for like 15 minutes.”

“And you didn’t bother mentioning this to me?” He asked, looking at you with distaste and even shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No! You act like you don’t know Jaemin. I have nothing to hide from you, what is happening to?!” You asked in disbelief, Jeno snatching his phone from you and opening another thing.

He handed it to you before you could even process what he did. You looked down and saw it was a convo. Not just any convo, but one between a girl named Euna- your classmate who you would always come second of.

Except when it comes to Jeno.

In the convo, you saw she was the one who sent the photo. Followed that was a complete fairytale.

She asked Jeno if both of you broke up, saying how you and Jaemin were getting cozy and even said how the both of you shared a kiss when he left.

“This is bullshit. I can’t believe you believe this.” You stated, life going out of you as you felt yourself deflate and was only filled with rage and disappointment.

Turns out, Jeno doesn’t trust you enough.

You tossed his phone to the bed, Jeno only looking at it before going back to you. “Is it real?”

“NO! I don’t know what else to tell you, I already told you no. After all this time, you really still couldn’t trust me.” Saying those words, and not only just thinking about it, hit you like a truck.

Your tears started to fall but you refuse to acknowledge it, wiping it away before it could even fall. “After all this time, after everything, you still don’t trust me. I would trust my life to you, Jen. I would willingly go underwater if I know I’m with you.”

Jeno looked at you softly, though he quickly stood up to mask his expression. “I just, I don’t know why Euna would lie about it. It’s not like her. She’s the top of the class, the president of the club-”

“Yeah, she’s so much better than me. Why would she want to destroy my life when there’s nothing to destroy right?”

Jeno took a step forward and held your hand, which you quickly took away. “That’s not what I meant-”

“You’re an idiot. You’re such a stupid dickhead, you know she likes you. She likes you way before we became together, you know she would fill your locker up with those stupid heart papers everytime she could. Fuck Jeno.” You said, pushing him away when he took another step.

“I don’t know, yn-”

“I don’t know too, Jeno. I don’t know what happened.” You said, turning around and exited his room, the door closing meaning he didn’t even followed you out.

The moment you step out his, your let your tears finally down. Now not worried about your appearance and finally let your guard down.

When you opened the door of his shared apartment, you saw Jaemin leaning on the other side looking troubled and ashamed.

“Jae?”

His head shot up when he heard your voice, looking at you with guilt and sad eyes. You closed the door behind you and step out the threshold of the dorm. “I- What are you doing?”

“I got back 20 minutes ago. I heard everything.” Jaemin said, taking a step towards you. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I thought we were all close enough, I thought, I-I didn’t know-” Jaemin stopped his blabbering as you pulled him for a hug, placing your head comfortably on his body as you finally let yourself go.

The Day After

Jaemin spent the night over at your place, settling at the couch with the ice cream and other snacks still on the table and the tv even playing.

When you opened the door to your bedroom, you were showed this sight of Jaemin, and it was evident it wasn’t only just you who had their heart broken.

It seems like you weren’t even the one who had their heartbroken the most.

The living room was already swept up and cleaned when Jaemin woke up, finding you fixing the table for breakfast. He was on his feet when you finally took notice of his bed hair and puffy face. “Morning.”

He only nodded, followed by a groan as he stretched. “You should’ve woken me up, I could’ve helped you clean.” He said as he walked towards the table, taking a seat beside you as he picked up his utensils.

“That’s okay, I wanted to distract myself anyways. Besides, you’re going to clean the dishes anyways.” Jaemin playfully glared at you as you chuckled at his reaction.

The both of you were having a conversation, trying to distract yourself from the events of last night, when his phone rang. Jaemin then picked it up after seeing it was Renjun, one of his and Jeno’s mutual friends and the person beside their room.

“Hey, what’s up?” Jaemin asked, not leaving from his seat as he answered. You continuing to eat in silence as to not disturb them.

“Did Jeno and yn broke up?” Jaemin shot you a quick glance, and when he found you looking at him, he diverted his eyes back to the food.

“Uh not really? I don’t know, it’s kind of blurred right now. Why?”

“Euna just walked out of your dorm room, like I just got back from jogging and I saw her walking out of your room. Are you with Jeno? Is Jeno home?” Renjun said, a sound of a door closing can be heard in the background.

“Jeno’s home, but I’m not.” Jaemin said, immediately catching your attention even is he said it as quiet as he could. Jaemin glanced at you for a moment before standing up, walking towards the front door and exiting it.

When he got back, he bid you a smile as he tossed the phone on the couch, though you took notice how it was a fake one. “What’s that all about?”

“Oh nothing-”

“I will kick you out, I heard it has something to do with Jeno.”

Jaemin’s face fell, he then looked at you with sad eyes and let out a breath. “Euna was with Jeno last night, while he was at the dorm. They spent the night together.”

That’s why the door was unlocked.

A Week Later...

It didn’t took long for what happened to spread

and no, it wasn’t WHAT happened

all everyone knew was that you and jeno are done

and that him and euna are getting ‘really close’

people even noticed how jeno and jaemin aren’t talking

so it was all about

who cheated with who

but after you had a talk with renjun

you made him promise NOT to tell anyone

“Why? Aren’t you worried maybe they’ll turn everything around?”

“My conscience is clear, that’s enough for me.”

You never talked with Jeno since then

well kinda

when you confirmed what happened

you sent him a simple text

“I hope Euna left the door locked. We’re done”

You don’t know if he ever planned to reply

you blocked him from everything

and since then, you solely focused on your academics

jaemin doing the same

you would’ve been bawling your eyes out

and spent every penny on a tub of ice cream

but jaemin was there for you

and your ice cream

Moving On...

“I aced the exam!” You exclaimed as soon as you saw Jaemin, both of you hugging each other tightly as you showed him your test paper, Jaemin showing you his and seeing he only had 2 mistakes.

That day, your professor also said how you topped not just one, but all of the exams. Your overall rank improving and getting that top spot of the class.

Jaemin having a similar fate. Though it’s not as “Being on top of the class” fate, he managed to land a spot on top 5.

“What do you want to do after classes? Let’s celebrate.” Jaemin asked as the both of you are already tucking your test papers inside the bag. “I heard there’s this new cafe, maybe you want to check it out?”

“Okay, I still have my club stuff though. Will that be okay?”

“Sure, I’ll just wait up for you there.”

Jeno groaned as his coach walked away after telling him off again, his performance lacking as each day passes by.

And not only is his coach the only one noticing

he was benched the first time of his basketball ‘career’

the school team barely winning

but that was the least of his problems right now

it struck jeno how horrible what he did to you when he received your text

by that time he already knew how he fucked up so bad

yet he still tried to contact you

but you completely shut him out your life

still, he hang around euna in hopes to get your attention

only it was doing the opposite when he saw you with jaemin

and now is the day he would finally work up the courage

much more than the one he mustered when he first asked you out

he decided to finish practice early and head to your way

jeno knows your schedule probably more than he knows his

on the way to the classroom, he heard his name being uttered

he stopped his tracks and found out it was coming from the stairs

the one right above him

“What? I thought what happened to you and Jeno was a one time thing?”

“Yeah me too, but the boy won’t get enough of this.” Euna

“So are you guys like a thing now or something?”

“I don’t know actually. But hey, he’s nice to have around. Though I did flunk some of my exams, he has really been coming over a lot. Here I am thinking having him was impossible, didn’t know a simple picture of his best friend and ex paired with some story would do the job.”

Euna and her friend’s laughing and joking halted immediately

jeno stood in front of them, glaring at the people in front of him

the faces of the people in front of him dropped

Euna beginning to blabber words to him

“Just move away, I’m on my way to see yn.”

he walked up as Euna’s friends move

yet Euna clung to Jeno

though he didn’t minded her and continued on

finally managing to lose her when he reached the floor

you were already on the way out the classroom when he got there

he sprinted towards you and grab your wrist when he reached you

you let out a small shriek at the action

and after seeing it was jeno, your face turned from shock to disgust

“Let go of me Jeno.”

Instead, he engulf you in a hug. In which, you pushed him away immediately and began walking away, irritated and angered by his actions.

“Wait, yn. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I should have believed you, please.” He said, grabbing your hand again as he blocked your path. “I don’t need you to take me back immediately. But I’m really really sorry, I should have trusted you, and Jaemin. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I love you.”

“What will I do with your love if you couldn’t even trust me? Thank you for apologizing Jeno, but we’re done. I’m done, I’m not going to put myself through something like that again.”

You shrugged off your hands to him but Jeno took it again, now pleading. “I would get on my knees right now. Just one more chance, that’s all I need. I’ll work my way back up-”

“Goodbye Jeno, I have somewhere to be. And you should too.” You said, finally giving him a short hug before separating yourself from him.

You held a cab and as you settled in, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

“Where we heading, Miss?”

“Clarity Cafe please.”

#nct #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream oneshots #nct dream fluff #nct imagines #nct imagine #nct dream imagine #nct oneshot #nct oneshots #jeno #lee jeno #jeno imagines #lee jeno imagines #jeno fluff #jeno angst #nct angst #nct dream angst #nct jeno

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stargazerinmoksha · 4 years ago

Text

i’m tired of putting up my shields. all of my barriers, please keep me safe enough to knock them down. please find my love under all of this debris. just look at me as if i was a soft and gentle breeze. don’t lock me in please, don’t hurt me. i know that i couldn’t be perfect enough for you. i know that you’re still searching for yourself. i’m sorry i had a bad day, i’m sorry i forgot to remember names that don’t mean anything to me. i’m sorry that we haven’t talked much. i’m sorry that i haven’t called. i’m sorry that i didn’t text back. i’m sorry that i haven’t wished you a good day. i’m sorry that i didn’t tell you that i loved you. i’m sorry that i didn’t get back at you for showing me nothing but love and kindness. my best friend tells me that you really opened up my heart again, you really showed me that i could be loved, you really fell in love with me. with all of my tears, and all of yours, we made the ocean succumb to all of our hopes and dreams, all of our wishes too. one big ass wishing well with all of our pennies and pinky promises. i’m sorry for being inconsistent and inconsiderate. i’m sorry for being such a pussy when it came time to actually let you be, so i’m letting you be. i see all that i’ve done to wrong you. and i mean it. i mean all of it. there was a few times when i just wanted to call you just to hear your voice. i just wanted to do that, but it wouldn’t be right, you know? the thing about letting go is that it’s a silent killer full of exposure. when the light shows me the way, i take it. when the universe tells me not to force love, i listen to her and only her. when all of my heart was given to you, it somehow came back to me in full force. i can speak to you in poetics, but i’ll speak to you like a normal person. the poetry doesn’t write the poet, he does. the prose doesn’t speak for the rose, the gardens follow the rain and i’ll follow mine. for all of the times i let you soak, i’ll pay you back in empty letters sent right back to you. i’m sorry for not doing that right. i still write to you in dreamland. i still hold you back to bed when things aren’t all too great. i just wish that you’re happy and content with your own life. yesterday was an important day, but today is a new one. i wish i would’ve called you. i wish a lot of things, but that’s all that it is. happy wishings. all of my happenstances start to turn on me, i am a dark spiral inked into all of my poems, i’m all of the circles inked into my arm, i don’t mean to be a cover up from the truth, so i won’t utter it. i know i fucked up while loving you and lost myself into a puddle of my own worries. i should’ve given you your space without a fight. i should’ve given you the time you needed. i never asked for a spiritual death. i never asked that to be one of the last times i got to hear your voice and things were okay. i should’ve done a lot more, but all of my should have dones are just that. should have done this better. should have done that better. should’ve treated you better. should’ve been sweeter to you. should’ve left you to your own devices, should’ve just let you grow your own wings. i really do mean it. you are the most beautiful parts of who i am right now and i will always thank you for letting the lightest of rains hit my skin to let this rose grow. i am the garden. i am all of the sunlight. i am the darkness of the moon. i am the shadows within myself. i am all of the nights that i couldn’t hold you back to sleep when all you wanted was to hear my voice. i’m sorry i didn’t pick up. i’m sorry you didn’t get my attention. i’m sorry i forgot his name, actually not really sorry about that one. he just isn’t important to me. but you are. i’m just a moment and i might not be here tomorrow. god forgives, baby, i don’t. you weren’t considerate of me either. i guess that’s our fault. and maybe this poem won’t read the same, but if you still love me it’ll hit all the same. yeah, you’re inked over my heart, but this poem will find you and you will read it because i know you will. all of my apologies left for the wind—

—i love you and this is not pretend. thank you for your time and this is me sending my love to all that you love. i’ll always pray for you even if i don’t text or call you first. i’m sorry for that one too

#poetry #spilled ink #prose #poems #quotes #queenofpoetry #teacup #promptsquad #prompts #unmask my heart #you know who you are

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Galactica, Chapter 48 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Aiden threw a tantrum when he found out he’d be assisting at the holiday show, and Courtney tried learning more about her best friend’s sister.

This Chapter: The Galactica Holiday Show very nearly goes off without a hitch...but not quite.

***

There were times, in this job, where Courtney couldn’t help but be extremely grateful to Violet for all the binders full of detailed instructions that she’d left behind.

Today was one of those times.

Courtney had never been to a showroom show, had no idea what to expect, and hadn’t even known they existed before Ivy had told her to put it in the calendar.

However, between Violet’s checklists and Ivy’s lead, Courtney felt like she stood half a chance of, at the very least, not fucking up too badlfy.

She’d spent last week pulling together everything they needed for the gift bags, from sponsors as well as Miss Fame’s preferred vendors, and made sure that she’d written everyone attending personalized notes as usual, thanking them on behalf of the company and Miss Fame for coming.

A last-minute change with the look books meant that they weren’t going to be ready until 6:30 am, so she’d been up at the crack of dawn to get to the printers in Queens the second they opened, now arriving at the venue holding the two heavy banker’s boxes, mind racing with everything she still had to do to make sure the day went smoothly for Miss Fame, calculating exactly how much time she needed to have her breakfast and coffee so that it would still be hot when she arrived later.

Courtney was so deep in thought that she almost missed seeing Tatianna, her friend standing at the elevator, bouncing nervously in her tennis shoes.

“Courtney!” Tatianna smiled. She was wearing a pair of tight fitting yoga pants and a white boxy t-shirt, a backpack over her shoulder.

“Tati!” she cried. “Hi! I would hug you but-” She motioned with her chin to the banker’s boxes.

“Here, let me help.” Tati took one of the boxes before she could protest, kissing Courtney on the cheek in the process, her lips silky smooth on Courtney’s skin.

“Thank you! I wasn’t expecting to see you so early.” Courtney was pretty sure that the models all had a 9:30 call time, and it was barely 8.

“I know, but I was all freaked out about the train being on time,” Tati explained, shrugging her shoulder.

“Well, I’m super relieved to see you.” It was true, Tatianna’s familiar face looking even more beautiful than usual. “I’m kind of panicking.”

“Why?”

“There’s just so many things that can go wrong, and I feel like I’m kind of over my head, and-”

The elevator doors finally opened on the showroom floor, revealing the bustling space that was formerly an extremely posh apartment, Ivy speaking to the event coordinator over by the bay windows, a lighting technician climbing a ladder nearby and a contractor stapling the last of the runway carpet to the floor so no one could slip.

Courtney had only been at the showroom once before, briefly, to pick up a suit for Miss Fame, but it had been totally renovated since then, nothing looking familiar, especially not the rows of white chairs set up for their guests.

She spotted the gift bag boxes that her and Ivy packed up and sent over on Friday, all stacked under a large folding table, and hurried over to set her banker’s box down, Tati on her heels.

“Thanks so much for your help. Let me try to find out where-”

“Court!” Ivy called out, walking over to her. “Hi, glad you found the stuff! By the time you’re done setting up the bags, I’ll have the names on all the chairs so it should be easy to put them out. And that door-” she pointed, “leads to the room we’re using for Miss Fame, so check it out and let me know if you’re missing anything.” She then noticed Tati putting down her box, and stuck out her hand. “Hi! I’m Ivy Winters.”

“Ivy, this is my friend Tati. She’s one of the models-”

“Of course! I should have guessed!” Ivy exclaimed, giving Tati her typically charming smile. “Come with me, I’ll show you where you can hang out until they’re ready for you. You’re a bit early, but that’s okay, because that means you get first choice at the craft service table!”

Courtney smiled, happy that Tati was being taken care of, praying that everything today would go smoothly.

***

“Feeling nervous?” Sutan looked over his shoulder as he made his way up the winding staircase to the Galactica showroom apartment.

The showroom was placed in an older building, Fame purchasing it when Galactica had finally started to make actual money, a proper showroom something she refused to pinch pennies on, and since they were still in business, it seemed like it had been the right decision.

“I’m not going to shit my pants if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Ha,” Sutan smiled, Symone two steps behind him, her long hair in a braid. The gorgeous girl was one of his newest hires, her 19th birthday only just ticking around. He still remembered the text he’d gotten from the scout, who had been scoping out some regional teen beauty pageants in the south. He’d seen her picture and instantly instructed the scout to book her a flight to NY. He hadn’t meant to keep her, hadn’t intended to put her on his roster, but he liked her, her fighting spirit lighting up any set she walked on, and so far, even though she’d proven to be a fast learner, he still felt mildly protective of her.

“Not what I asked,” Sutan waited for Symone to catch up, “But good to know.”

They had almost made it to the showroom, Sutan giving her one last look over before they made it to the door. He had picked her up at the modeling apartment she was staying at, making sure she had a light breakfast and plenty of water, her black jeans and white crop top close enough to approved that he hadn’t bothered to ask her to go back inside and change.

Sutan knew it was probably nepotism to make his sister take Symone on so soon after the holiday fittings, but showcases were a good way to test drive newer models, to see if they were ready to do bigger and better things, and Sutan had every hope that Symone could be big.

“Okay, so,” Sutan turned to Symone. “Remember what I taught you. Shoulders back, chin up, back straight. Be polite, be nice, do as you're told.”

Symone nodded, her eyes resting on Sutan’s face, taking in everything he was saying.

“And most importantly.” Sutan smiled. “Have fun.”

***

“Okay, so has everyone found their models?”

Violet smiled as Trixie was standing in the middle of what probably used to be a smaller living room, holding his little clipboard, Alaska, Kim and Amy set up for makeup and hair at the side of the room, Raven already in one of the chairs, a magazine opened on her lap.

“Yes coach!” Maxwell yelled back, the man with Yuhua from tailoring who was making the final adjustments to one of the models. On one hand, it was a little unnecessary for Violet to be there, her holiday gown done and ready to go, the finished styling of the models not a task that fell in her hands at all.

Still, she was happy to be there, happy to get to experience this, but most of all, she was happy she wasn’t Courtney.

Courtney had been running around, trying and almost succeeding in making sure that Fame was in a good mood. They had never had a chance to test run a showroom show, but Violet knew she had left behind a binder with instructions for Courtney, keeping Fame level one of the harder tasks on a day like today, since a large portion of Galactica’s budget depended on impressing the rich and powerful that walked through the door.

Violet had been backstage at several shows, but this was the first time she was really paying attention to the models. She never used to think about what agency models came from, or even the models themself. At Parsons, no one had been able to afford them, and as Fame’s assistant, she only needed to give a single call to have every agency in town jump at the chance.

“Violet!” Violet paused, the sound of her name coming from a voice she didn’t recognize. “It’s so good to see you!”

Violet turned, coming face to face with the angel she remembered from Halloween.

“Oh,”

Tatianna was just as gorgeous as she had been the last time she saw her. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, her brown eyes, golden-tan skin and bright white teeth apparently just how she looked.

“Hello-”

“I didn’t know you worked here!” Tatianna grinned, a cup of coffee in her hand.

“I do-” Violet cursed on the inside, the answer absolutely lame. “I haven’t seen you here before. Who are you with?”

“With?” Tatianna looked confused for a second. “Ah! You mean who I work for? So it’s actually kind of a funny story. I don’t really have a manager yet, but Courtney got someone named Max to take these headshots-”

“Violet!” Violet’s head snapped to attention as Tatianna was cut off, Trixie calling for her. “One of the model management models needs a robe. Can you find one for her?”

“Yes coach.” Violet nodded, thankful for the escape as she made her way towards the rolling clothing racks at the back of the room, Ivy stuffing them full of everything anyone could possibly need, the things toppling over if anyone breathed in the wrong direction.

***

Over the weekend, Aiden had taken the time to look deep within himself, tried to figure out the actual source of his discontent. Maybe it was silly to focus so much anger on Violet, just because she was brand new and already getting more chances and support than he’d gotten over a year. After all, it wasn’t her fault that she seemed to fall ass-backwards into every possible opportunity. Maybe she wasn’t the actual enemy.

Of course, the second he saw her on Monday, he realized that all of that was garbage: he hated her, and her face, and her stupid high ponytail and impractical heels. She was a stuck-up brat who didn’t appreciate how easy she had it. And besides that, her dresses were overworked and reductive.

Aiden had tried to stay calm, had tried to do what he was supposed to, which was assist and support.

Holiday was a smaller collection, which Aiden knew because he had been at Galactica for forever, unlike Violet, so there wasn’t that much to do, tailoring only sending them fully finished garments which didn’t always happen during the mad dashes that were fashion weeks.

Aiden had helped Kiara, and had even taken a trip downstairs to get a box of shoes, but he had quickly faded to the back of the room, standing amongst the racks with a cup of coffee, watching everyone else work.

He heard her before he saw her, Violet’s heels clacking on the floor as she made her way towards the racks with her stupid little scissors, the gold glinting in the light. She was probably going to go over the final check of the garments, snipping any and all loose threads, once again acting like she was better than everyone else.

Aiden was about to say something, but Violet didn’t notice him, didn’t even see him as she walked up, didn’t acknowledge his existence.

And that was the final straw.

It was an impulse. A whim. A passing thought. After a glance around the room to make sure nobody was watching, he did it--shoved the rack as hard as he could, causing both Violet and the rack to crash to the ground, Aiden not hearing the sickening crunch of Violet’s foot that got caught on the bar.

***

[So, any takers on when her majesty will lose her shit today?] Sutan smiled at his twin over the rim of his glass of mimosa. They were standing on the outskirts of the showroom, Ivy walking from white chair to white chair as she put showcards down, a big box under her arm. The showroom was set up in the classic style, a black carpet in the middle of the rows with several smaller circles on the corners so the models had time to twirl and really show off their garments.

He had tried to catch a glimpse of Violet when he had dropped off Symone, but he hadn’t been able to spot her, Raven chatting his ear off before he had made his retreat to go look for his twin.

[Don’t even joke about that asshole.] Raja smirked, her arms crossed, her own glass about half empty. She was looking absolutely stunning in one of her suits, her long hair up in a high ponytail, jewels hanging from her ears. [Also, I think we need a new nickname. Fame is catching on to majesty.]

[Ha,] Sutan snorted. He loved being able to speak Indonesian with his sisters, the language like their own little secret, the perfect way to gossip without being discovered. [We could workshop the upcoming storm?]

Raja laughed, just about to open her mouth, when they both heard a loud crash.

[What was that?] Raja turned around, Fame’s little assistant rushing by them as she ran backstage.

[It sounded like something falling?] Sutan hadn’t heard a scream, and even though he could clearly pick out commotion backstage, he couldn’t make out the sound of anyone crying. [I’ll go check.]

Sutan drowned his glass, giving his sister a smile before he started walking, hoping that it wasn’t anyone from Elite who had fucked up.

***

“Is everyone okay?!”

Courtney could feel her heart in her throat as she ran into the backstage area. She had been at the front, practically dropping the box she was holding the minute she heard the crash.

Several racks at the back of the room were toppled over, clothes everywhere in a gigantic mess. Courtney ran over, a circle of people blocking her way.

“Everyone!” Courtney heard Trixie, a surprising note of authority in his usually gentle voice. “Back off!”

They all did, Courtney now able to press her way forwards, forcing her body past Max, when she heard the last name she had expected.

“Violet.” Courtney made her way towards the front of the row, and there she was. “Violet. Are you okay?”

Trixie had a hand on Violet’s knee, and Courtney had never seen her look like this. There were tear stains on Violet’s cheeks, her normally perfect appearance frazzled and broken.

“Oh my god,” Courtney threw herself forward, scrambling to get on the floor next to Violet, her only thought being near her friend. “Violet, are you-”

“Courtney-” Violet looked at her, her brown eyes practically black, her mascara smudge. “My foot, I can’t- It got caught-”

Courtney turned her attention to Violet’s foot, easily telling which one it was since her shoe was strawn to the side.

“This one?”

Violet nodded. A bruise was already beginning to form, visible through her sheer stockings, her skirt around her knees.

“Kandy-” Courtney searched the group for the design assistant, finding her watching the scene with frightened eyes. “Go to the bar and ask for a bag of ice.”

“Okay!”

“Violet!”

Courtney turned to see Raja’s brother racing in, coming directly towards them. All she could remember was how, months ago in Fame’s office, he’d made Violet cry and forced her to leave -- and Courtney was in no mood to deal with some macho bullshit when there was a medical emergency.

“Don’t look at me!” Violet held a hand up in front of her face, clearly trying to shield herself from him.

“Lovely eyes-”

“Mr. Amrull.” Courtney tried to step between them, to help her friend, everything in her burning to protect Violet. “Please stay back, we’re trying not to-”

“That’s my fucking girlfriend!” Sutan exclaimed, ignoring Courtney completely and rushing to Violet’s side, crouching down by her head. “Violet. Please-”

Courtney opened her mouth to argue, but when she saw Violet reach toward him, Sutan grabbing her hand, Courtney realized that maybe his presence would be comforting to her, in spite of the bad taste he’d left in Courtney’s own mouth.

“Vi…” Courtney said gently, still kneeling at Violet’s feet. It was too early to see if there was any swelling. “Can you put any weight on it?”

Violet tested it, wincing deeply and then shaking her head no. “I’m sorry-” Violet’s voice broke, sounding almost embarrassed.

“Okay,” Courtney swallowed, trying to stay calm, “I think we need to call for an ambulance.”

“No! No no.” Violet exclaimed, holding up the hand that wasn’t clasped in Sutan’s. “I don’t need an ambulance. I’ll just ice it and take a cab after the show-”

“After the show?!” Courtney almost wanted to hit the other woman. “Violet, you are not staying here when you’re hurt!”

“I have to do my job.”

“Lovely eyes-” Sutan tried to cut in, the panic in Violet’s voice rising.

“I made a huge mess and-” Violet reached for her throat, her fingers scratching her neck. “I can’t just-”

“Violet.” Trixie cut in, Courtney genuinely forgetting that he was still there, his tone leaving no room for arguments. “We’ll take care of this. All I want is for you to be okay. Kandy is calling an ambulance for you and-”

“No, please-” Red splotches had shown up on Violet’s cheeks. “No ambulance, I can’t afford that, I’ll-”

“How are you even going to get yourself downstairs to a cab?” Courtney sighed. She’d never been able to get used to the fact of how expensive everything related to healthcare was here, how people had to worry about money when they were lying on the ground with a possible broken bone. “You can’t go to the hospital on your own-”

“I’ll take her,” Sutan said gently, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, and Courtney smiled slightly. Maybe she’d misjudged him.

“But what about your-” Violet looked up at Sutan, the man taking most of her weight.

“That’s not important. I’m coming with you, even if I have to carry you out of here.”

“Please,” Violet snorted, her panic forgotten for a moment as she smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous,”

Just then, Kandy rushed back in with the ice, and so Courtney decided to give up the fight, helping to find Violet’s bag and coat, instructing Kandy to take them down the service elevator, knowing that Miss Fame would be furious if they interrupted the party, even for an emergency.

***

Violet couldn’t remember ever feeling this embarrassed in her life. She was leaning against Sutan who had said a few words to Raven before taking off, the man supporting her like it was the most natural thing in the world as they entered the service elevator.

Violet had never been more grateful for how overprepared she was, the pair of foldable ballet flats she always kept in her bag almost making it bearable to move. She had no idea how she’d face her coworkers when returning to work, thick shame curled up in her belly, the pain in her foot the only reason she hadn’t fought harder to redirect the attention, everyone staring at her without a doubt showing up in her nightmares.

Violet had no idea how the entire accident had even happened. One minute, she’d been ready to do the final check Trixie had asked of her, completely in her own world, the next, several racks had taken her down.

The only explanation Violet could come up with was that she must have accidentally kicked the rack, that her foot had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, that this was her fault.

Violet didn’t know if her dress would be okay, if her coworkers could salvage the mess she had made, but she hoped that she hadn’t ruined anything, and that she still had a chance to keep her job.

***

Bianca strolled into the Galactica showroom, impressed by the renovation that had apparently taken place since she was last inside. At least one wall had been knocked down, opening up the space and allowing the light to pour in through the bay windows, and all the furniture was brand new, what appeared to be lovingly restored antiques. She looked around, finally spotting the bar and walking over. It was only halfway through the workday, but since it was a holiday week, she figured it was fine to indulge.

As she waited for the world’s slowest bartender to make her cocktail, she turned around again, surveying the room. Most of the guests were high-end buyers, socialites, people known for spending big bucks on couture. Bianca knew a few in passing, socially, but this really wasn’t her crowd. She sighed, annoyed, wishing she’d just asked for a glass of wine.

Just then, there was a stir in the room as Miss Fame appeared, making her way graciously through the crowd and finally greeting Bianca with a delighted smile.

“Bianca! Darling!” Fame was a vision in white, the creamy fabric hugging her hips, the short cape sleeves and the knee length her signature silhouette, gold glittering from her fingers and ears. “So glad you could make it!”

“Of course, blondie, I wouldn’t miss it!” Bianca gave her friend a couple of air kisses and a hug, careful not to crease her clothing. “So, will I be impressed?”

“It’s my most fervent hope,” Fame said, sounding so drily sincere that Bianca couldn’t help but laugh.

“How’s your jaw?”

“My jaw?” Fame raised a perfect eyebrow.

“You know, days like this...it must really ache from sucking all this metaphorical dick.” Bianca gestured towards the clientele around the room, then turned slightly to pick up the cocktail that was finally ready for her.

“Ugh, really Bianca,” Fame scolded, nose wrinkled distastefully, but she couldn’t keep up the act, soon letting a smile pull at her mouth, giving Bianca’s arm an affectionate squeeze.

It was then when Bianca noticed a petite blonde hovering timidly by Fame’s shoulder, shifting from foot to foot. Courtney was obviously trying to get to her boss, but afraid to interrupt.

She looked absolutely adorable--a short, classic black A-line dress with a starched white Peter Pan collar, hair held off her beautiful face with a narrow black headband, clipboard in hand like a dutiful little assistant. Bianca caught her eye, dimples appearing in her cheeks as she smiled.

“Hi Courtney.”

“Hi.” Courtney returned her smile as she stepped closer. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, I’m-”

“It’s okay, do your thing. Nice shoes.” Bianca gestured to her Mary Jane style Gucci heels, knowing that they were probably procured second-hand and even then, probably a prized possession to someone on Courtney’s salary. The delighted expression on Courtney’s face at the compliment confirmed that she was right, a smile that made her glow from the inside.

“Bianca,” Fame said. “How on earth do you know my assistant?” Her face was still smiling, but with slightly gritted teeth now, her eyes telling a clear story.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Bianca winked at Courtney, whose cheeks began to turn a charming shade of pink.

Fame turned her head and flashed Courtney a dangerous look, causing her to stammer out, “Oh um, I’m just… Bianca’s sister is my best friend, Miss,” cheeks reddening even more.

Letting out a mildly terrifying laugh, Fame responded, “How very delightful! What a small world we live in. Courtney dear, is everything alright backstage? On track?”

“Oh yes! That’s what I came to tell you. The situation has been handled and they’ll be ready to go in twenty minutes as planned.”

“Good.” Fame turned back to Bianca, dismissing Courtney with a little wave and, “That’s all.”

Courtney nodded, taking the signal and hurrying away. Bianca watched her go, and Fame watched Bianca, her eyes narrowing.

“Bianca Del Rio…”

“What?” Bianca turned back to Fame, batting her thick black eyelashes innocently.

“Do not. Even. Think about it!”

“Come on, I’m only human…” Bianca flashed a dimpled grin.

“I am serious. Leave her alone. Or I will end you.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared! You gonna nag me to death?”

“Bianca…” Fame’s eyes narrowed again. “I am telling you. Do not. Especially not this week when I already have my in-laws to deal with, and-”

“Alright, alright. I’ll wait until next week.”

“Bianca!” she huffed, and Bianca let out a loud cackle at her enraged expression.

“Would you calm down? Angel face over there is straight.”

Fame shook her head. “Yes well…So’s spaghetti until you get it wet. ”

Bianca laughed again, raising her class. “Cheers to that, blondie!”

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #tatianna x violet #vitan #bitney #courtney act #tatianna #raja gemini #symone #violet chachki #trixie mattel #aiden zhane #bianca del rio #miss fame #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

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quicksilversquared · 5 years ago

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A Very Jagged Take-Down Ch 3: The Last Lie

Marinette knows Jagged Stone, everyone knows that. She’s his favorite niece, never mind the fact that they aren’t actually related. And Jagged Stone is really famous, the exact kind of person that Lila loves claiming connections to.

That was never going to end the way Lila wanted it to.

(a collection of one-shots)

links in the reblog

Marinette had spent the past month getting everything absolutely perfect for Penny's birthday gift for Jagged Stone.

Shiny aluminum dragon scale beads shimmered and caught the light from between more muted scale-textured fabric on the slim-cut jacket. Uneven netting made the illusion of yet more scales, each texture carefully placed to make sure that it wouldn't impede Jagged Stone's guitar or piano playing. Marinette had gotten the idea from the Game of Thrones wardrobe and added her own spin, and she couldn't deny that both it and the pants that she had made- with the same fabric scaling texture wrapping around in uneven patches and lines- were absolute works of art.

(There had been so many hours spent frustrated as she worked at the texture, trying to get it to come out right, and then the actual pieces had taken ages, but- well, it was all worth it, both for her portfolio and for the check that she had gotten to cover the commission from Penny,)

And now- in only a couple of hours- Jagged Stone would have his birthday party and get to open his presents. The party wasn't in Paris- Jagged Stone's tour had him enjoying lovely summer weather in New Zealand while Paris shivered under a layer of snow and ice- and so obviously Marinette couldn't attend, but Penny had promised to send a video of Jagged Stone's reaction to his presents.

(Marinette was so glad that she- or rather, Penny- had paid for express shipping. Even with it, the package had only managed to arrive the day before, which was cutting it far closer than Marinette had wanted.)

"Are you going to make a piece for yourself that uses some of the dragon scale mail stuff?" Tikki wanted to know as Marinette anxiously waited for the text from Penny. "Or that texture? It turned out really cool."

"I think I'm going to give my fingers a break first," Marinette admitted with a laugh. "There was so much hand sewing on those pieces, my fingertips are pricked to bits. And it took up so much time- I haven't gone on any outings with my friends in forever, because I was trying to get that done. So I want to hang out with them a few times first, before everyone decides that I'm just flaking completely out on them, and then- yeah, I want to come up with some design to play around with."

"They wouldn't think that you're a flake if you hadn't decided to keep the commission and your gift for Jagged Stone a secret," Tikki pointed out. "I can understand why you wouldn't show anyone pieces in progress, so that the design wouldn't get leaked, but you could have told them that you had a commission for Jagged Stone, at least."

"And then everyone would be bugging me wanting to see it. No thanks." Marinette had considered it at first- after all, it would be a reminder to their class that she did know Jagged Stone, thank-you-very-much, and maybe if she said that one of Lila's stories about Jagged was a lie, people should actually consider listening- but then the cons had sunk in.

The pestering. The attempts to steal ("borrow") her sketchbook in hopes of getting a glimpse of the design. The snooping around her room- which would be a big problem now that she was also hiding the Miracle Box- to try to get a sneak peek at the piece. If she was especially unlucky, Lila or Chloe stealing or destroying her sketchbook out of jealousy.

It would be easy enough to admit to the commission after Jagged Stone had already gotten his present. That way, there would be no chances of sabotage. Then she could admit the reason why she hadn't been hanging out all month, everyone would stop complaining about her absence, and things would go back to normal.

(She had told Chat Noir, after her partner had dropped by her balcony while she was working on the texturing for the fabric scales, but he had been sworn to secrecy in return for a few pain au chocolat. Hopefully the rest of Paris never found out how incredibly easy he was to bribe.)

It was hard to do her homework with so much anticipation swirling around her gut, but Marinette forced herself through it. After all, as a superhero, she didn't exactly have time to spend just sitting around not getting her homework done, and there had been some projects that had been pushed aside towards the end of her present-sewing spree that Marinette had to get caught up on.

At least she had practice with shoving aside everything else in her life to focus on homework. Marinette had had to play catch-up after akuma attacks a few too many times for her to not know how to do that.

Two hours later, her email beeped with a new message. Marinette shoved aside her Chemistry practice problems at once, reaching for her computer mouse and opening the email from Penny.

Jagged LOVES his pants and jacket! the message read. They're absolutely gorgeous! He's gone to change into them right away because he just couldn't wait to wear them, so don't be surprised if you see a picture or two floating around on the Internet before long! Thank you so much for all of your hard work- I knew it was a fantastic idea to commission you!

Marinette had to laugh as she clicked on the video link and it started to play. That was so very Jagged, to be too excited about his new outfit to be able to wait.

Onscreen, Jagged Stone was opening a few presents, probably from his family and staff considering that they had been brought along on tour and weren't just waiting for Jagged Stone at his home studio. Marinette could tell the moment that Jagged spotted her present to him, because he lunged across the remainder of the pile to pounce on it at once. The wrapping paper- courtesy of Penny, because it was just more convenient to ship without extra packaging- went flying at once, the box was opened, and Jagged Stone crowed in delight as he pulled out the pants. A hand- Penney's by the look of it- slid another present to Jagged before he could run off and change into the pants. He opened that one eagerly, too- Marinette could just hear Penny over the music of the party telling him that she had commissioned her- and positively rocketed out of his seat with glee at the sight of the jacket.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Jagged Stone exclaimed, He waved the pants and jacket at the camera. "I'm gonna go change! These are too amazing to not be wearing this very instant!"

Marinette laughed again as the video cut off. She closed the window, only to spot a new email from Penny, with a series of photos. Jagged Stone was wearing his new outfit, posing in it with the world's largest grin on his face.

She could breathe a sigh of relief, at least- everything fit just like it was supposed to. The jacket sat correctly, and the pants were a perfect fit, slim-cut but with enough room for him to move around and rock out. With one more grin, Marinette emailed Penny back, asking her to wish Jagged a happy birthday from her. With the email sent, Marinette could only beam up at the ceiling.

Mission complete. She could breathe easier now, knowing for sure that Jagged loved the pieces she made for him.

She couldn't wait to tell Alya.

"I can't believe you know the designer that did all of the Game of Thrones costumes, Lila! That's so cool!"

"Oh, what now," Marinette grumbled as she recognized Alya's voice. Couldn't she go one morning without hearing another new lie from Lila? Just once? "And why is she trying to claim a connection to a costume designer? I'm the only one that would be really interested in something like that."

Tikki was frowning as she peered out of Marinette's purse. "Marinette, she mentioned Game of Thrones. Isn't that the TV show where you got the idea for the dragon-scale patterning from?"

Marinette's stomach dropped. In a heartbeat, she knew exactly what Lila must be trying to claim. How dare she try to take credit for getting Jagged the jacket and pants that Marinette had spent hours slaving over, stealing Marinette's accomplishment away-

-but wait. There was no way that would stand. Maybe the paparazzi and the world had gotten a glimpse of Jagged Stone's birthday gift outfit already, but he probably hadn't felt like answering press questions on his birthday. If she knew Jagged Stone like she thought she did, he would no doubt gush to the press where, exactly, he had gotten the pieces, and who had made them, probably within the next day.

Marinette grinned. Lila had picked the wrong lie to tell for sure this time.

"Marinette, guess what?" Alya exclaimed as soon as Marinette stepped through the door to the classroom. Just as Marinette had suspected, everyone was clustered around Lila at the front of the room. Even Adrien, for once, but he seemed far more interested in the pictures that were being shown than he was in Lila's story. "Guess who Lila knows? She knows this really amazing costume designer who did a whole bunch of the Game of Thrones costumes, and she commissioned this really awesome jacket and pants combo from that designer for Jagged Stone for his birthday!"

"He clearly loves it if he ran off to change into it before the end of the party," Rose gushed. She beamed at Lila. "That was a really great idea for a gift, Lila!"

"Yes, well, it was a bit pricey even with my connections, since of course I wouldn't ask my friend to work for free, but since he and I are friends, I wanted to get a nice gift for him," Lila told them. "And since he has Fang, well- crocodile scales and dragon scales are pretty similar, right?"

Alya nudged Marinette. "Isn't it cool that she knows such a fantastic designer?" The implied be nice, maybe she can introduce you hung heavy in the air. "That jacket- it's incredible. I bet she has a lot of tricks and tips about design and sewing!"

Lila nodded, her hair bouncing. "Yeah, she's super talented! And I was lucky enough to actually get to help her with the jacket when she came through Paris a couple weeks back! I didn't do a lot, of course, because I didn't have the time, but it was super cool to see how the scales were made." Her eyes slid sideways to Marinette, a silent challenge that she was so sure that Marinette wouldn't take. "If you wanted, Marinette, I could maybe teach you some of the things that she taught me."

…yeah, okay, Marinette was not going to stand here and pretend to play nice with Lila, not even for the few hours it would no doubt take for Jagged Stone to tell the press who, exactly, had made the pants and jacket for him. Not when Lila was actively claiming credit like this, claiming that she had made part of the outfit when it was all Marinette's work.

Whelp. Time for her to step off of the high road and for the gloves to come off.

"That would be so nice, Lila," Marinette crooned, keeping her eyes on Lila's surprised face. Then her eyes narrowed. "Except for the fact that it's all complete bullshit."

There were gasps at that, and Marinette could feel Alya's hand tighten around her arm in a silent reprimand. Lila gasped, pressing a hand to her chest as though deeply offended. "Marinette! I was just trying to be nice, and this is how you-"

"Oh, save me the sob story." Marinette's eyes slid around the group and caught on Max and Markov, who was out and clearly listening. A conversation from a couple weeks back tickled at the back of her mind, and Marinette went for it. "Markov, you record video of things you see to review later, right?"

"I do!" Markov chirped, clearly pleased that she remembered. "And I usually retain the footage for one to five hours, depending on how common or uncommon a social interaction was."

"Can you retain the story Lila just told for a bit longer?" Marinette asked, ignoring how Alya's hold was getting tighter and tighter. "For a day, maybe."

"Of course!"

"Marinette," Alya hissed through gritted teeth. "Cut it out, Lila is trying to be-"

"After all, Jagged Stone is never quiet about the gifts that he likes or about giving credit where credit is due," Marinette continued, brushing Alya's hand off of her arm without sparing it a glance. "So I'm sure he'll tell the press about who actually gave him those gifts within twenty-four hours. So I'd like to have the footage of right now to make sure that your story doesn't magically change between now and then."

Lila blanched, then pasted her usual expression back on before anyone else could notice. "Actually, I asked him to keep it on the down-low right away- after all, I didn't want people flooding my other friend with requests, because she's starting work on wardrobe for a new movie soon. Besides, I don't need any public thank-yous. I know that he likes my gift, and that's enough."

Marinette didn't even bother hiding her eye roll that time. "Sure. And I'm the Queen of France." Brushing past the group, she headed over to her desk, ignoring the stares of her classmates.

She couldn't be surprised about that, really. After all, while Marinette had called out Lila's lies on a fairly regular basis before, it had always been more of a one-off comment, not- well, not her clearly calling Lila a baldfaced liar.

"That is not okay, Marinette," Alya hissed as she passed Marinette's seat. Apparently she was headed up to sit with Lila instead for the day. "I know you don't like Lila, but-"

"I'll accept 'sorry I didn't listen to you, Marinette' apologies in the form of fabric store gift cards once you realize that I'm right," Marinette told her instead of listening to Alya's scolding again. Alya scoffed.

"Well, when Lila is proved right you can apologize to her for not listening and to us for having to deal with this nonsense by taking us all out to lunch!" Alya shot back. "Lila loves this little seafood place a couple blocks away. I'm feeling hungry for their salmon bake already!"

"Don't hold your breath for it," Marinette muttered, but Alya had already flounced off, clearly entirely convinced that she was right.

Well. Marinette had more or less been kidding about the gift cards- after all, her allowance plus the money that she got from babysitting and commissions meant that Marinette wasn't exactly scrounging for money to buy the materials that she wanted for her projects- but if Alya was going to counter her joking suggestion with a completely serious response, then Marinette would gladly welcome a little extra fabric money.

Marinette turned back to the front, ignoring the looks that she was getting from the others around the room. Oddly enough, Chloe and Sabrina weren't sneering at her- in fact, they seemed to be hunched over Sabrina's tablet, which had the pictures of Jagged Stone pulled up on it. Chloe was tracing part of the picture, saying something quietly to Sabrina, and Marinette had to wonder what they were talking about. It wasn't as though the jacket was Chloe's style at all, so why were they finding it so interesting?

And then Marinette's gaze slid further around, and she practically had a heart attack when she saw Adrien turned around to face her, his chin propped up on his arms on top of her desk and his eyes sparkling.

"Hi, Marinette!" Adrien chirped, sounding incredibly cheerful and not at all bothered by Marinette abandoning the (incredibly ineffective) high road in favor of- well, calling out the bad guys. He grabbed his tablet, nudging it onto her desk. "I was looking at the picture of Jagged Stone's new jacket and- well, maybe it's not the highest-resolution photo in the world, but I thought I noticed your signature on it, like you did on the hat. Was Jagged Stone's outfit something you made?"

Next to him, Nino startled, glancing up from his notebook and back at Marinette.

"Yeah, I made it," Marinette told him, unable to hide her grin. Adrien had noticed her signature! He had looked closely enough at the jacket to notice it threaded in amongst all of the other patterns and textures going on. "Penny commissioned me for the jacket, and then I made the pants as a gift to go along with it. And I was going to tell people about it today, since I didn't want the news getting out early and spoiling the surprise, but Little Miss Lies-A-Lot decided to throw a wrench in that plan, apparently."

Adrien winced, then reached out to pat her hand comfortingly. "Well, at least you know that that lie isn't going to last long."

"Yeah," Marinette agreed. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, at long last. "Thank goodness."

Marinette headed back to school after lunch feeling much less excited about going there than she had that morning.

Maybe every passing hour brought her closer to the time when Jagged Stone would mention to the press where his gift had come from, but ugh were those hours ever dragging. Maybe Adrien knew the truth- and Nino did now too, since he had overheard her and Adrien talking about the pieces and the work that had gone into them and other possible applications of the dragon-scale patterning- but the rest of her classmates were apparently convinced that she was being unnecessarily mean to Lila and were acting accordingly.

(Marinette really liked the idea of scaled boots. She would have to poke through thrift shops for a base shoe, probably, but when they were finished? It would be killer.)

"Cheer up, Marinette, maybe Jagged Stone has said something already!" Tikki chirped when Marinette sighed again, her footsteps still absolutely dragging. "You know it's possible, since you were too busy helping in the bakery for the last part of lunch break to be able to check!"

"But it's not likely," Marinette pointed out. "I did check at the start of break, after all. Add in the time zone differences and the fact that Jagged is probably moving to a new place for his tour, and what are the chances?" She sighed. "And now I'll have to deal with Lila's new conspiracy theory about why I got so ticked off about the pants and jacket for the rest of the afternoon."

Lila's conspiracy theory, which Marinette had overheard Lila telling their classmates just before lunch and which was possibly one of the most maddening things about this whole mess, the thing that had made her go from being willing to wait the whole thing out to being more than a little impatient. Lila had told them that she thought that Marinette had probably wanted to claim for the credit for the jacket, because she was jealous of Lila's connection to Jagged Stone and wanted the attention for once. The tantrum-throwing, Lila had continued loftily, was probably just because Lila had told the truth before she could start spreading her lie.

Ugh.

Tikki giggled at that. "Yes, but just imagine the look on Lila's face when she realizes that you were actually the one to make the pieces! She'll be so shocked!"

Marinette certainly hoped so. It had taken everything in her not to turn around, march up to Lila, and inform her that actually, I DID make that outfit, and I have the receipts and progress photos to prove it!

She could have. But Lila would shove right back, and Marinette really hadn't felt like getting into another argument, not when she would get proven right without wasting her breath.

At least Marinette had Adrien to keep her sane. He knew the truth, just like Marinette, and understood why that particular story had been the straw to break the camel's back. He had wanted to know all about the process of making the jacket, and Marinette had been happy to comply. She even had in-progress shots, which meant that by the time classes let out, Nino had been convinced, too. He had been furious on her behalf, but had agreed that maybe it would be best to wait for Jagged to make some sort of comment instead of trying to argue with everyone else.

(After all- well, Marinette didn't want to risk seeing doubt in her friends' eyes if she tried to tell the truth and told them that she made the pieces. That- that would just hurt.)

With one last sigh- ugh, an akuma right now wouldn't be so bad, at least then she wouldn't have to listen to Lila 'answering' questions about what getting an on-set peek of TV shows was like- Marinette headed into school and up to the classroom.

Oddly enough, despite the fact that class was about to start, there were a lot of people missing. Alya wasn't back yet, or a lot of the other girls. Lila was there, though, and she smirked at Marinette as she came through the door. Clearly she was still riding the high of having gotten a reaction out of Marinette earlier.

Marinette smirked right back as she slid into her seat, Tikki's words coming back to her. Lila could gloat all she wanted, but that didn't change the fact that Marinette had made those pieces and the truth would come out. Even if it was taking longer than Marinette would have liked.

She was just being impatient, honestly. After sitting through months of Lila's nonsense, one day more was really nothing.

The afternoon bell rang, and Adrien twisted around in his seat to give Marinette a questioning look, glancing around at the empty seats before quirking an eyebrow. Marinette could only shrug in return.

After all, she didn't know where everybody was, either. Normally, she would have guessed that people had gotten distracted by a Lila-story in the cafeteria, but considering that Lila actually was in class, that clearly couldn't be it. She would suggest that Adrien ask Nino since Alya was his girlfriend, except Nino wasn't back yet, either.

...odd.

Before Marinette could spare much more of a thought to wonder where in the world everyone was, the door burst open and their missing classmates tumbled in. They practically swarmed Marinette's desk, pushing Alya to the front to drop a gift card in front of her.

Marinette blinked.

"Wait, what's going on?" Lila demanded, her voice shrill. "Why- why are you giving her a gift card?"

"Because, Lila," Alya started, her voice absolutely dripping ice, "Marinette was the one that made Jagged Stone's new outfit. The jacket was commissioned from her by Penny Rolling, and the pants were a gift directly from her."

"But- no, I already told you guys that she would claim that," Lila said with a titter. All of it came out too pinched, too high-pitched, too fake. "I knew Marinette would claim-"

"Jagged Stone told the press who it was from himself. Marinette never claimed anything." Alya cast a disparaging look at Lila. "Now I have to wonder how much of what you've told us is a lie. All of it, probably. Did you even leave Paris when you tried to claim that you were out traveling around the world?"

"The packages must have gotten mixed up," Lila tried, her voice climbing higher yet. Their other classmates were sending her dirty looks now, too. "The tags on them, I'm sure that they must have been switched-"

Chloe scoffed from her seat. "Right, and Marinette's signature just magically managed to jump from the pieces she made and onto your gifts, right? What a lame little liar."

…okay, Marinette was officially going to count herself impressed that Chloe had actually noticed her signature, because she had hidden it pretty well. That must have been what she and Sabrina had been looking at in the pictures earlier.

Maybe it wasn't that big of a surprise after all. Chloe had seemed annoyed by Lila's grand claims as of late, and Marinette wouldn't be surprised to hear that Chloe had wanted to discredit Lila and have her spot as the most connected person in the class back.

For once, Lila fell silent. Her face had gone pale. Alya spared her one more glance before rounding the desk and sitting in her regular seat.

"We all chipped in the price of what we would have ordered at the cafe," Alya explained as the rest of the students dispersed to their seats and Ms. Bustier headed up to the back to collect Lila, probably to march her straight to the office. "Food and drinks, and then- well, I at least threw in a bit extra, because we've been giving you a lot of grief about the whole Lila thing."

Marinette grinned, picking up the gift card. An amount was scrawled on the back, and- wow, it was not a small amount. Marinette was willing to bet that more people than just Alya had put in extra. Either that, or people had very expensive tastes. "Thank you."

"It's our apology to you. We should have listened to you earlier." Alya looked sheepish. "I was just too excited about all of the potential scoops that I could get from Lila, I didn't stop to fact-check and really think about what she was saying. I'll do better in the future, I promise."

Marinette could only beam. This was what she had been waiting for.

"So…" Alya started, leaning forward with her eyes alight. Marinette quirked an eyebrow back at her. "You dressed Jagged Stone and made the coolest jacket and pants that I've ever seen! What was that like? Nino says that you have progress photos- can I see them before Ms. Bustier gets back from the office? I want to hear all about it!"

With a laugh, Marinette pulled out her phone and swiped to the photos that she had taken. "Of course! So a couple months ago, Penny approached me about designing something…"

Maybe it would take a couple weeks for them to really get past all of this and for their friendship to fully recover, but Marinette was confident that they could. Alya had no doubt learned a few lessons about listening to Marinette, and something told Marinette that Lila was going to get in no small amount of trouble, potentially even getting kicked out of their school. Even if she didn't, Lila's power was gone. No one would believe her now.

And that was how it was meant to be.

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #A Very Jagged Take-Down #Jagged Stone #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste

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